


Lucked Out

by inertial



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, M/M, Psychological Drama, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inertial/pseuds/inertial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's play the avoidance game! Jung Daehyun versus Yoo Youngjae. The winner gets to keep his pride intact—sanity or figuring out what's wrong with Jung Daehyun not included. Are you childish enough to play along, Youngjae?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. let's play pretend (prologue)

There's something wrong with Jung Daehyun. Something very, very wrong between his strained voice and aversion towards his bosom buddy. As his closest friend, don't you think you have the responsibility of finding out what, Yoo Youngjae? But it seems you're more preoccupied with letting Daehyun drown in his misery. Youngjae, why do you willingly play the rebound and allow Daehyun to suffer alone? Why does your pride stand in the way from chasing after Daehyun as he runs from you?

We all know that deep inside, you let his presence (or lack thereof) manifest inside of you. Spread like a disease, turn into an obsession, consume every part of your mental and physical being. It's ridiculous to evade someone who has always been your other half. Gambling will do you no good, Youngjae. You can't just depend on luck to hope somehow the situation will fix itself. Strike the jackpot when Daehyun comes back to his senses and you can finally rejoice over the return of your long lost friend, cash in your chips and lock arms with the boy deemed indispensable—no such thing, Youngjae.

Is it because you don't care at all despite your trembling fingers, suppressed hurt and bleeding heart (diagnosed as withdrawal symptoms from staying too far from your soulmate)? Or is it because you're afraid to find out what exactly is bothering Daehyun, and perhaps, be abandoned once and for all?


	2. the eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages

 

It had never crossed his mind before. Prior to now, not once, not even a grazing hint of a simmering inkling. Yet this notion, strange as it is, has wrapped around his entire head, before _he_ can even wrap his head around it.

He'd been warned before their debut that fame changes people. Having your life recorded makes you wary of who you are, and with the cameras so frequently rolling, the fear of missing out the _ready, set, action_ makes you decide to never revert back from your role.

Youngjae had never been one to fear such things. He thought he'd do fine being himself on camera; he didn't need to play a character. It turned out the world's more cruel than he'd imagined, and he's less that perfect. Much, much less.

 _The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages._ Sometimes, you can't hear the snap of the clapperboard and people want more from you than just you. After their debut he'd been boxed up in several names, like the other members have. Some got the labels they wanted, some didn't, while some got those they'd never expected to get.

Youngjae had fallen into all three categories. He had been crowned brain of the group, and he worked hard to remove the stinging stamp of being fat. The only epithet of him he hadn't expected involved not just him but another group member as well. He thought it was weird; he wanted to chuck it away the moment he heard of it, deeming it to be trivially unwanted like a misfitting piece of clothing.

But it wasn't as easy to be stripped off as his other displeasing label. It wasn't just about physical appearance or intelligence, it was about a relation. One with his closest friend, Daehyun.

How do you shake off a misinterpretation of a friendship?

They had a good laugh about it the first time they heard it. The second time the matter was brought up, only Youngjae laughed. The third time it was talked about, he couldn't laugh anymore. Not with Daehyun. They'd grown too far apart for Youngjae to make a joke out of it.

Apparently, Daehyun disapproved the distortion of their relationship as well. The difference was that he was much, much more desperate to drive it into the ground. But he couldn't go out on air and yell that he wasn't gay, much less dating his group member. Thus, he had taken to distancing himself from Youngjae. Like sand their friendship trickled through their fingers. Youngjae tried to grasp on to it. But Daehyun didn't.

Eventually, Youngjae gave up trying.

It didn't matter, though. The company wanted to milk this set up as much as possible. So it became an on-off skit. On stage, they stood beside one another; off stage, they sat at opposite ends of the couch. On air, they talked and laughed with one another; off air, there was only silence between them. On camera, they were closer than before; off camera, they were further apart than ever.

Youngjae had thought it would be alright. He knew when to smile and he had always been able to last till the yell of  _cut!_ and the whirring of films. As long as he kept it up, knowing when to wear his front, he would survive for the time being. Other things were irrelevant at the moment as he had a job; he was living for the fans now.

But sometimes, you can't hear the snap of the clapperboard, and people want more from you than just _you_.

 


	3. facades

 

Arms tangled, perfectly timed laughs, shared, unrelenting gazes. Screams at every instance ( _I think Youngjae's cute_ ) and the non-existent space between them suddenly feels overly suffocating. Youngjae nuzzles his face into Daehyun's neck and notices how his jugular vein tenses. It almost seems like a dream that this had all been natural once. They'd done it because they were close, not for the squeals of those who only saw a limited side of them. Watch all of it disintegrate into the air once the camera stops rolling (and Daehyun leaps away in relief).

"Alright, that's a wrap up!" Youngjae instantly unwinds himself from Daehyun and after a quick bow, heads straight into the changing room. A trail of footsteps pad after him and Himchan joins him in the room, settling beside him on the bench.

"Are you okay?" Himchan asks, gulping down a bottle of mineral water. Youngjae looks up at him tiredly, still in the midst of catching his breath. He dips his head the moment his panting settles down and Himchan passes him his bottle.

"Are you sure?" Himchan presses, watching as Youngjae swallows the rest of the bottle down. Water drips down Youngjae's chin and Himchan reaches over to wipe it away.

"Yeah," Youngjae answers. Himchan is still looking at him, so he throws back a puzzled glance. "Why?"

Himchan shrugs in return, eyes still trained on Youngjae. "Nothing," he replies airily, looking away once Youngjae's eyebrows crease. The door snaps open and the rest of the members shuffle in one by one. Yongguk joins them by the bench, drenched in perspiration, and Youngjae hands him a towel. He leans back against the wall, letting his eyelids flutter to a close.

He can see only black, but there's still a hint of light trailing through his skin. He thinks of quick flashes and the artificiality commanding to be put back on. He briefly hears Jongup's voice mingling with Daehyun's laughs, and Junhong's squeak echoing through his breaths causes him to snap open his eyes.

Daehyun is staring at him. He watches dark pupils avert their gaze as nimbly as he had caught them, but Youngjae's stare doesn't let up. Daehyun pulls Jongup into a headlock and Jongup shouts for Junhong to help, the three ending up wrestling on the floor. He isn't sure if he had actually seen Daehyun's eyes on him, but he lets the thought perish when Yongguk squeezes his shoulder.

"You've done well, today. Your voice was amazing," Yongguk says with an encouraging smile. Youngjae flushes in return and nods lightly, mirroring Yongguk's smile. Himchan shoves Youngjae into Yongguk, accusing jokingly about Yongguk not praising his performance.

Youngjae remains against Yongguk's chest, head resting in the curve down Yongguk's neck. He's wheezing through his mouth again and he catches Daehyun's eyes. This time, Daehyun doesn't veer his gaze away, but Youngjae does after a long moment.

The car ride back to the dorms is largely made up of silence, aside from their manager's comments on their show and Himchan's random remarks. Jongup and Junhong have fallen asleep and it's just Daehyun and him in the back. He's exhausted, but he can't find it himself to sleep. The arm rest is cutting into his ribs, yet he inches further towards the window. He replays the way Daehyun had vehemently insisted on sitting with Jongup and Junhong, and how Himchan had shoved Daehyun into the back seat while throwing him a furtive glimpse.

It hurts to be pressed against sharp corners, but the agony's not as bad as the one in his chest. His hand inches to give Daehyun a punch in the jaw, but he restrains himself and digs his fingernails into the cushion. Himchan whirls his head around, pupils glossing over the duo before addressing Youngjae.

"Yah," Himchan utters softly. "Isn't it uncomfortable to sleep like that?"

"I'm fine, hyung," Youngjae brushes Himchan's concern off, _it's not as much as sitting with that fucker._ Daehyun snaps his head towards them and Youngjae turns away, watching the scenery soar past. He can see Daehyun's reflection in the window and his gaze fixated on him.

Himchan sighs after a pregnant pause and gestures for Daehyun to move. "You wanted to sit with them, right?" Himchan presses and climbs over to the backseat. He pushes Daehyun forward, a little rougher than needed. "Go over. It's too cramped here." Daehyun frowns at Himchan and sends one last glance towards Youngjae before clambering over.

"Here, rest on my shoulder," Himchan says and Youngjae casts him a grateful look. He presses himself into Himchan, shivering slightly. The tension in his shoulders finally collapses into dust as he breathes in Himchan's familiar untainted scent; he'd been wearing cologne ever since he debuted. He remembers Himchan and him in the practice room, all weary glances and sharp exhales. Himchan's hair had been brown at that time, messily styled because he wanted one last chance at screwing up his appearance and having no one give a shit. _You'll win so much_ , Himchan had told him while they shoved pork belly strips down their sore throats, _but in exchange, you'll lose the things you have now._ The freedom, those minutes without someone breathing down your neck about your chapped lips, the much smaller need to care about the opinions of others. Being self-conscious lasts through a lifetime, but the scale at which celebrities have it is suffocating. Every move photographed, documented and reported.

Youngjae closes his eyes, sinking his cheek into the contours of Himchan's shoulder. There are no lights this time but he can still hear the fading echo of an ovation and Daehyun's piercing protests. They'd once cried in one another's arms while divulging their demons. He'd been there for Daehyun when his voice cracked on their debut stage, the one thing they'd been training for for years. Daehyun had been there for him when JJ Project first performed and he'd been reminded of why he quit JYP.

Soulmates. That had once been what Youngjae thought of him and Daehyun. They had their differences and they fought more so than the other members, but they completed one another. He'd clearly thought wrong. What halves of a whole avoid one another like the plague?

Youngjae doesn't ask how it happened. Neither does he ask if they can fix it.

 


	4. the silent war

 

"Tomorrow's stage will have a special since it's our anniversary," Yongguk announces, grinning when Junhong pumps his fist in the air. Youngjae rolls over from his spot on the stage, their rehearsal being put on hold as the managing team reshuffles their setlist. Entangled with him is Junhong, his lanky limbs all jumbled up with his shorter ones. Youngjae can feel Junhong's short breaths against his neck, the sound of _Warrior, I'm leaving you under the sun_ still brimming in his eardrums and their sweat mixing inexorably with skin against skin. The lights above them are blinding, piercing his eyes the moment he tries to open them.

"We'll be performing Secret Love as an extra, along with elevated stages." Jongup yells at this, leaping off the floor. Junhong shifts towards him, cheering half-heartedly. "Each pair will get a stage."

"The usual, I'm guessing?" Himchan says, dancing jokingly over to Yongguk. Yongguk shoves him away with a chortle as Himchan feigns offense. Youngjae laughs into Junhong's shirt, too exhausted to move when Junhong shivers at the tickling sensation.

"I want to switch."

The voice that stabs through the air instantly has Youngjae narrowing his eyes, fist clenching. He's caught off-guard when Junhong holds him tighter, as though silently telling him not to act rashly.

"Junhong-ah," Daehyun beckons but he makes no attempt to near the pair on the ground. Junhong stiffens and a grimace immediately claws onto his face as he looks to Youngjae. He hears Junhong whisper but he can't make it out in the consistent drone backstage. _Is that an apology? But why-_

"I want Junhong to be my partner." The entire stage turns silent, contrasting the previous comfortable quietness.

"Daehyun," Youngguk states tiredly, but it comes out almost like a warning. Youngjae stills at Yongguk's tone of voice. He had known they wouldn't be able to elude the members' knowledges of their ongoing cold war, but it seems like everyone knows a bit too much for Youngjae's liking. He had thought they wouldn't think much of it. He's not supposed to worry them. They're not meant to get involved; it should just be between him and Daehyun.

Youngjae had thought they looked fine on the outside, enough to fool everyone. For a moment, he feels terribly naked and kept in the dark. The embarrassment from obviously being unwanted by Daehyun smacks him hard on his head, along with the soft gazes from his teammates. Youngjae can't tell if it's pity or not.

" _I_ want Junhong," Youngjae spitefully blurts before he can stop himself. Daehyun whirs his head towards him, eyes turning into slits. Youngjae's grip unconsciously tightens on Junhong's arm. The atmosphere thickens tenfold for that second, and before Daehyun can open his mouth to argue, Yongguk cuts in.

"Youngjae, you'll go with Junhong. Daehyun, you're with me. Himchan, Jongup. No objections," he adds at the end for good measure, eying Daehyun threateningly. Daehyun grumbles under his breath and shrugs indifferently, throwing the towel over his shoulder and striding off to get a drink.

Youngjae's breath is still caught in his throat when Junhong unwinds from him and pats him on the shoulder. He turns to look at the youngest of the group, and catches that same look etched within Junhong's pupils. _Sympathy?_ The harrowing misgivings scratch at his neck as he watches the others file out. Abandoned, that's what he is, by the boy who'd called him his best friend, who now refuses to look him in the eye like the plague.

He picks himself up and stares at the chair Daehyun had occupied. They had adamantly insisted on sharing chairs some months ago even though they obviously couldn't fit on one. How has it come to this?

The hours of practice are gruelling, but even more so when Youngjae refuses to even graze Daehyun in the midst of their dances. When he saunters out of the theatre, a few fans are gathered backstage. Youngjae puts on his brightest smile as they sprint towards him with notebooks in their hands. They fawn over his looks, _your eyes are so pretty, oppa. You put a girl like me to shame._

They pepper him with questions and he patiently answers them, gesturing for them to slow down when he can't keep up. One of the girls leap up, glancing behind him. "Oppa, where's Daehyun oppa?"

Youngjae's smile falters for that moment, but his lips remain curled despite them digging into his cheeks. "He's still changing, I think," Youngjae says, chuckling when the girl makes a disappointed groan. "It's weird to see you two separated. Aren't you two attached by the hip, oppa?"

The girl is obviously making a joke, but Youngjae's smile completely falls. _That's what we are to everyone_. The fans worriedly look at him, snapping Youngjae back into reality. He visualises the roll of the cameras and the lens zooming in. Take two, _don't screw it up_.  Youngjae pouts, puckering his lips as tightly as he can. "So you're not happy to see me?" He cutely argues, relieved when the fans start to protest and he has successfully avoided letting out any of their personal affairs.

After the fans leave, Youngjae feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around, blinking with his lips jutted out. "Hyung?" He mewls, a pitch too high, much too delicate. Yongguk looks at him, startled.

"Youngjae?" Yongguk's voice hits Youngjae like a cluster of bricks and he shakes his head, scratching behind his neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "Are we going now?" Yongguk nods, still blinking at Youngjae as he leads the younger boy away.

When they reach home, Youngjae volunteers to bathe last since Junhong looks ready to keel over. He takes the longest time in the shower, blows his hair dry and briefly hears Yongguk and Himchan talking in the kitchen. He recalls what had happened a few hours ago and taps his forehead lightly. _Why did I do that?_

Daehyun is already asleep by the time Youngjae climbs into bed. He doesn't spare him a glance as he turns over, facing the window, and buries himself into the sheets.

 

 

 

 

 

_Thank you for watching our performance! We'd like some feedback from the audience. Ah, how about you two? Yes, the two in the front row. Hand them the mike, please._

 

 

 

 

 

"You saw what happened, didn't you?" Yongguk sighs, falling back into the chair. Himchan downs his coffee, earning a disapproving glare from Yongguk. He puts the cup down, pulling a face.

"They were fighting for Junhong." Himchan quickly peeks out from the kitchen, eyeing the sleeping members. 

"They were fighting against each other," Yongguk corrects. "Not so much for Junhong."

"They both just want to win," Himchan laughs, though he's barely amused. This has gone on for too long. Each of them has seen their fair share of fights in the dorm, even before their debut. Daehyun and Youngjae fought occasionally, their squabbles sometimes brutal and petty, but no matter how stubborn either of them are, they still managed to mould themselves back into the pair of unbreakable friends they were.

The moment Yongguk and him locks eyes, he reads the sense of anxiousness. He doesn't know what to do.

 

 

 

 

 

_No, I'm sorry; you can't review the script. Our cast don't have scripts, you see. It's all part of what makes the act more natural._ _And that's all for today, folks!_

 


	5. stage directions (interlude)

 

 _Cute boy_. That's his label. Forgotten as the lead vocalist ( _main_ vocalist, till Daehyun joined) and erased from the chorus of their songs as Daehyun's popularity shoots sky high and flings him through the roof, too far from Youngjae to see. Yet Daehyun's high notes (the one Youngjae had failed to reach, _still_ fails to reach) are ringing in his ears after every concert. He takes up the most of their songs, after all.

There was a time Youngjae was confident he wouldn't be jealous of Daehyun. It'd been true—while everyone had been worrying about him when the news of Daehyun's arrival hit, he was more excited than anything. A friend, he had thought, of his age to finally accompany him when he felt out of place between Jongup and Junhong, and Yongguk and Himchan. A friend who shared his dreams of singing his heart out for the world.

He thought he was blessed to have gotten more than he'd asked for when Daehyun and him became closest friends. But everything seems so unfounded now. Like everything he'd went through were just allegations in his head, all unsubstantiated and finally overturned by the court in his head. Overturned by Daehyun, to be more exact.

It feels less like envy to see his lines lessening, but more of hatred. He'd never thought he had the right over those ad libs; the better singer gets more, after all. He'd gladly give up his parts for Daehyun. Not so much now.

Youngjae stops singing. He's still breathing out words but the lyrics come from the walls of his swollen throat instead of his ribcage. He gives up halfway during practice the moment he feels a strain in his neck (and his heart because that  _fucker_  is ignoring him so blatantly) and bows his head low but emotionlessly when their manager scolds him. Daehyun doesn't comfort him anymore. It's Himchan, Yongguk, Jongup and Junhong who do.

Youngjae roams over to the left during his part of Stop It on the stage, squishes his cheeks between his small hands and hears the coos of fans. Jongup embraces him tightly, chin poking into his broad shoulders. Youngjae's beanie nearly falls but Jongup catches it, putting it back on. The crowd shrieks at their "moment" and Youngjae leans nearer to Jongup. He nearly feels guilty for doing it on purpose instead of his own inclination.

They don't matter. They're just a few lines, anyway. They don't make a difference. He doesn't make a difference (not to Daehyun).

Daehyun belts out his series of high notes as they fall into formation behind him, all quick steps and whirs of joints. When his voice fades to a perfect close, Youngjae glances at Daehyun. Daehyun is drenched in the spotlight, luminance blinding his sharp features and accentuated dark eyes. He looks untouchable, unreachable, unrecognisable.

Youngjae wonders for that second if Daehyun had wanted out because they're not on par anymore. Maybe it had never been that Daehyun was sick of having his "preferences" seemingly mistaken thanks to his friendship with Youngjae. He's stuck on the bottom tier, barely able to get his head above the water as the menacing sea of disregard drenches his eyes and blocks his vision. There'd been a time where Daehyun struggled, as the shy country bumpkin with a thick Busan accent who'd join when everyone knew each other. Youngjae had been there for him. He'd showed him the ropes and warmed him up to the rest of the teammates.

But maybe Daehyun's too high up to grab Youngjae's grappling hands as he sinks underwater with the words of others brimming at his ears. Youngjae can't hear his own voice; it almost feels like the water has gushed down his throat and quenched the passion burning in his heart. 

Maybe Daehyun doesn't even want to save him. A part of him wants to argue that  _no, Daehyun isn't like that_ but he can't finish it off with  _I know him_.

Junhong grabs him by the waist, tugging him to the side. A fan screams about their height difference and Junhong pats him on the head, smiling cheekily. Youngjae wants to snap at him jokingly, like how he always does when they're stuck in the dorm and Junhong is bored so he goes to bother Youngjae, but he instead bites his lip and crosses his arms petulantly.

A fan raises her fanboard high, neon lights scarring into Youngjae's pupils. _LoJae_. It's different from the sea of boards with popular pairings on them. Of a certain one he now loathes.

Youngjae sends a wink to the fan (missing a line in the process) and she cheers, waving her fanboard harder. He doesn't know what he's doing exactly, but he knows at least he's going in the right direction.

The moment he goes backstage, their manager grabs him and throws him a look. "What are you doing?" He hisses. "You've made no contact with Daehyun at all. They're going to think there's something going on between you to."

"There's nothing going on between us." Youngjae means it both ways—one's a lie, while the other is a truth which Daehyun is too stupid to get. The anger strikes him again. He dealt with it, why can't Daehyun do the same? It's just a dumb, pointless rumour. Everyone knows it isn't real. _Insecure wimp_ , Youngjae scathingly spits under his breath.

"Then go and talk to him. Interact with him. I've told him to do so too so you better not argue." He's shoved out without a second word and he bumps into Daehyun instantaneously. Daehyun jumps and he melts into an unreadable look. Youngjae doesn't care. He pulls Daehyun closer and cheers to the crowd, tilting his head and fluttering his eyelids.

 

 

[ _Enter_ ] YOUNGJAE [ _and_ ] DAEHYUN

 

**YOUNGJAE**

How are you guys today?

[ _Puts an arm around Daehyun_ ]

[ _Crowd goes wild_ ]

 

**DAEHYUN**

...

...

...

 

 

A break in the script. A pause as the theatre's atmosphere shatters and so does Youngjae's patience (sanity). As a main actor, you never forget your lines because the eyes are always on you. It's a fatal mistake. "At least have the fucking decency to _act_ ," Youngjae hisses menacingly into Daehyun's ear. Daehyun turns to him, evidently startled, before his arm winds itself around Youngjae's hips and his fingers slide just the slightest bit under his shirt. The curve of his stomach fits perfectly with Youngjae's.

"How are you, Seoul?" Daehyun's deep voice reverberates past his ear, booming through the speakers. It's obnoxious and way too loud, just like how it usually is when Daehyun yells while they're playing video games.

Youngjae misses it.

When they're at the dorm, he lets his guard down for that split second. Shows the cards in his hands from their idiotic, evasion game of who breaks first. He puts a hand on Daehyun's shoulder just before the older boy steps into the bathroom to shower.

"Do you hate me that much?" His voice drips of revulsion, and a hint of disappointment (a clear sign of weakness; he's given the upper hand to Daehyun). The clasp tightens, his nails digging into Daehyun's shirt. Daehyun used to insist they should bathe together, but Youngjae had found it too invading of his personal space.

Youngjae doesn't wait for an answer. He goes to bed, pulls the blanket over his head and keeps his eyes shut. He pretends to be sleeping when Daehyun gets out of the shower and the darkness helps to keep up the disguise Youngjae's still form aims to imitate. A warmth materialises beside him and he freezes when he feels breathing against his lips, barely noticeable through the thick fabric. _Who_ -

_Drip._

The part of his blanket, just above his face, turns wet.

 


	6. mirror, mirror

 

Bright lights. Burn into corneas as the camera relentlessly goes click and captures every second, the frequency increasing along with the chance of slipping up. Of course they'd do the interview together. What else did Youngjae expect?

Youngjae pretends to be tired and leans his head into the couch, drowning out the murmuring. Daehyun is sitting on the other end of the sofa. Youngjae isn't sure what he's doing but he supposes the staff won't talk too much about them since they've just rushed over from overseas. They're allowed to be exhausted enough to not converse without accusations of being superficial.

Youngjae stares straight at the mirror when the stylist does his make-up, no words, simply brushes of powder and pencils. He watches as his face gets drawn on, the reflection starkly showing Daehyun's scrutinising face. When they're called, Youngjae gets up and walks to his seat. Daehyun takes the space beside him, patting down his jeans. The interviewer stands beside the camera, out of sight. It's just them on the space of white.

The questions come moderately, nothing too out of the blue, nothing they haven't handled before. Sometimes they interrupt one another but that's been a harmless, natural occurrence way before their rift started.

"I heard you guys are quite popular with the fans. They call you two DaeJae, is that correct?" Daehyun visibly freezes and Youngjae holds back the urge to roll his eyes. _Making a mountain out of a molehill. No one actually thinks it's real. Only you do._

"Yeah, it is," Youngjae smoothly answers. He can feel Daehyun boring his eyes through his head. "As Daehyun and I are close friends, the fans enjoy watching our friendly moments."

Lying comes too easily nowadays. But superficiality is all celebrities are about. It starts with the make-up (Youngjae can't tell if it's seeped into his skin by now), then the flashy clothes too heavy for the eyes of any normal person, and lastly, the persona people want from you. It's too hard to make people like you for who you are. It's easier to act like you are what they want you to be because you're dealing with just one person, yourself, instead of millions.

"That's sweet. Would you two like to give one another a heartfelt message? You can go first, Daehyun." Daehyun is numb, contrary to his previous talkativeness, and the interviewer squints at him. Youngjae can see from the lens that the camera is zooming in on them.

"Youngjae," Daehyun starts after a long, tense moment, the nervousness clear for all to see. "I-" He pauses almost instantaneously and Youngjae sees him twitch. "You're my best friend. We've been there for each other since our trainee days and you ... you have taken care of me well when I first joined." Youngjae frowns when he notices the way Daehyun's eyes enlarge and his adam apple bobs up and down. It isn't like Daehyun to err so noticeably on camera. He's unusually anxious and it's not just his persistent brand of incense due to Youngjae's presence.

"Ah, sorry, I can't find my words now," Daehyun laughs but he swallows thickly once again. His gaze remains veered away. "Just know that I- I love you a lot, Youngjae." Three words yet Daehyun manages to stammer and stumble them out like a kindergartener reading from his textbook, choke them out like he's sacrificing his heart.

Youngjae buries his head into Daehyun's neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "It's my turn now!" He exclaims, clapping his hands together adorably. "Daehyun," he begins easily like his lines have been imprinted into the back of his mind, "Because of our same age, we understand each other well. I'm very grateful to have you in B.A.P. Although the rest of the members provide a great source of comfort and happiness, it's nice to have someone who knows you well. Thank you for always being their for me and being my wall to lean on during our recent tour. I'm ever grateful for the things you've done lately to show you care. Without you by my side, I don't know what I'd do. I love you!"

The interviewer cheers, her gentle voice resounding beside Youngjae's laugh. Daehyun barely shifts, expression inanimate and eyes unfocused, before Youngjae puts a hand on his knee. He sends him a look, reminding him to play along. Their conflict may be unsettled, but civility is due when it comes to their jobs.

When they're dismissed for a short break, Youngjae pulls Daehyun to a deserted aisle away from the buzz. "What's wrong with you?" He asks, just a sprinkle of concern laced in his rebuking tone. Daehyun blinks hard and glares at him.

" ... Don't _say_ things you don't mean," Daehyun blurts. "I haven't done anything lately—" Daehyun stumbles on his words and he's not making sense, "—and you don't... you don't lo-" He abruptly cuts himself off, eyes wide and looking more frantic than ever. His eyes dart around for hastily for an escape. Youngjae can't read the emotions drenching Daehyun's eyes but he's too astonished to bother deciphering them.

"How about you take your own advice?" Youngjae counters softly. He knows it's a mistake to let down his guard but he still does because suddenly, Daehyun doesn't look like the fucker who gave him up thanks to the judgements of everyone else. Suddenly, Daehyun looks like the confused, _vulnerable_  kid he once was and not the untouchable existence too far from his grasp to feel anymore. He reaches out slightly to feel Daehyun's shoulder and the cheap t-shirt fabric that once covered his bony shoulders during their pre-debut days, but the spikes on Daehyun's expensive jacket wards Youngjae away. Maybe the fear of grabbing nothing has him not even wanting to try so he won't be disappointed. How can you ever admit that you've lost one of the best things in your life? To what, exactly?

Youngjae takes a step back the moment Jongup's laugh floats towards them. He flashes Daehyun a look of hurt and turns, padding towards the source of voices. "It'll make it less hard for you."

 


	7. rip off the skin

 

It's custom to review their performances after every concert. Pick out the mistakes like if one of them falls out of sequence even the tiniest bit or if one isn't speaking up enough and have them polish it up like the dirt on a mannequin. Sometimes, when the company is a little more slack, it'll just be them as a group on the practice room floor with their manager watching their concert video.

Jongup and Youngjae return from getting snacks ( _the healthy ones_ , Manager Kang had reminded), padding into the quiet room. Jongup drops himself onto the ground between Daehyun and Yongguk on the right side of the room and Youngjae hesitates for a moment before sitting beside their manager at a corner. His stomach touches the cold floor and he briefly remembers the days at the gym with Daehyun, sweat slipping down his neck and Daehyun's encouraging pat on the back.

 _Sticks and stones may break my bones_ , but words are a whole different thing. It pierces through you, digging slowly into your soul and manifests in the recesses of your heart if you don't put a barrier up fast enough. It travels to your mind, wrangling your thoughts, and soon you'll never be able to put it down to rest. Try to push it out but like the rebound of a ball against the wall, it comes back harder than before. Why? Simple, because you put the wall up there yourself. _You_ don't want to let those words go, whether or not you're conscious of it or not.

It stung when people called him fat. Sometime before his debut, he hadn't given another damn about his weight because he came here to sing, not impress the crowd with his dashing looks. But there's always a reason why people are allowed to be on television for millions to see when they're commoners like everyone else. The privilege of standing on a stage higher than others comes with a standard you have to hit and that's being better than others. We don't just listen to the television, we watch. Voices aren't the only thing that matter. If you want to stay up on a pedestal, you better live up to the height you're standing at.

Youngjae had felt envious of Daehyun, not in a malicious way, for being able to eat and not gain weight so rapidly like he did. He'd starved for months to get his jawline, felt his muscles burn and his joints snap as he exercised to the brink of fainting. There had always been one person by his side who would push him on and not to give in to that one bar of chocolate.

"I slipped up there," Yongguk points out again about ten minutes into the video, pulling his lips to the side. Manager Kang leans towards Youngjae, gesturing towards the screen.

"You've been pretty out of it lately, Youngjae," he drops his voice to a hushed whisper. "You haven't been singing up to standard. I mean well."

Youngjae nods, waiting for the spur of motivation to hit like it usually does. He has always taken criticism about his passion well; it's always been a source of drive to get him to improve. It doesn't come, for some reason. He frowns and ponders over Manager Kang's words instinctively when something else hits him.

 _I mean well?_ He repeats the words, them sounding foreign in his head. Why would Manager Kang feel the need to add it like some safety net? He's never been one to need such things. It's Daehyun that does; he's more sensitive to remarks and more often than not, takes them personally.

"What do you mean by that?" Youngjae chuckles lightly, slight nervousness dripping off his laugh. "I know you mean well, hyung. I always do."

The way Manager Kang looks at Youngjae is rather alien, so he fidgets under his scrutinising gaze. Has Manager Kang forgotten?

"I know. I was just being careful, I guess."

"Why?" Youngjae presses on, confused. "You know me. I'm not the type to get insulted easily."

"Yes, yes. I know you," Manager Kang repeats absent-mindedly. Youngjae shrugs it off, angling his chin towards the screen. He's singing a segment of Crash (pitch raised, lips pursed, head tilted) and the entire crowd is cooing at his adorableness.

"The fans really love that," Youngjae comments to wash away the unsettled feeling from their preceding conversation.

"They do, don't they? Tons of K-Pop sites are adding you on their list of the cutest boys currently active. You should check out the forums when you have the time," Manager Kang laughs, ruffling his hair. "You learnt it all from me, didn't you?" He presses his cheeks together and Youngjae feigns throwing up, earning him a jab in the ribs.

"Keep it up. The public really likes this side of you. I think we can all agree you're more cut out for the cute boy role than Himchan." _My role_ , Youngjae thinks offhandedly as he snickers at Manager Kang's joke. A few minutes before the end of their concert video, Manager Kang turns to face him seriously.

"I promised Yongguk that I'd leave your personal issues up to you guys to handle, since he said it's important to let you guys grow by yourself." He cocks his head towards the right, clearing his throat to lower his voice further. "The fact that you guys are so young yet are already going through all this makes it all the more harder. Youngjae, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything, okay?"

Youngjae nods, unsure of how to respond. Manager Kang blinks at him, as though expecting more, but rises once Youngjae turns away. "Alright, so that'll be it. I'll come back with the comments from the production team, alright? Yongguk, follow me, will you? Junhong, go return the tape to the studio."

If Youngjae hadn't been so sharp, he would have missed the look their manager had thrown at Himchan. The second oldest instantly stands, yawning. "I'm going to go get some coffee from the vending machine. You guys want anything?" The three left sitting shake their heads. Himchan pats his pockets.

"Jongup, come with me. You have change, right? I'm not sure if I've got enough." Jongup obediently follows, but Youngjae cuts in. "Hyung, I have change. I'll go with you." His jaw is locked and his voice comes out as a scoff. They've obviously concocted a plan to leave him and Daehyun alone.

"No need to. We'll be back soon." Himchan waves dismissively, shutting the door behind them. The tension in the room coils around Youngjae's body, so he stretches himself (breaks the ropes around him and for a while, he remembers Daehyun's arms around him as he hooks the safety wires to him for their special stage, _we're gonna fly sky high!_ ) and keeps his eyes averted. He'd left his phone with their manager as instructed, so he can't pretend to occupy himself with it.

Youngjae wants to act like nothing's wrong. That they're not having this stupid feud, that he's not being a bitter, childish bitch and throwing back the shit Daehyun has thrusted at him ten times harder. That he's the mature, intelligent boy everyone praises him for. So he decides to break the ice.

"The concert was fun, wasn't it?"

A part of him, one that he vehemently denies, hopes that maybe if he tries again like he had at the start, their cold war will dissolve into nothingness and they'll go back to the friends they used to be.

Daehyun hums. Youngjae offers him a smile and his heart palpitates faster like the drum beats of a suspenseful soundtrack. _Say something_ , Youngjae begs, _make fun of me like you always do. Tell me I stepped on your foot during whatever song, that my face contorted when I was singing whatever chorus._

_Don't make me give up on you._

Daehyun coughs and stands. Youngjae's shoulder deflates and he shuts his eyes. Daehyun doesn't head for the door, as Youngjae had anticipated, but instead steps towards him. Youngjae snaps his eyes open the moment he feels warmth near his jeans and is greeted by Daehyun kneeling before him.

Their proximity is too close for his liking, even though they're an arm apart. It'd once been normal but they haven't been this close for so long that it feels strange.

Youngjae furrows his eyebrows when Daehyun leans forward, movements cautious. He remembers whispering into Daehyun's ear about some nearby restaurant at one of the fanmeets during their Warrior era and laughing in amusement when the crowd shrieked.

 _I thought maybe_ , Youngjae breathes but nothing comes out as Daehyun halts halfway, teeth visibly chattering the slightest bit, _maybe we'd both continue being who we are, doing what we do, and let the world think whatever they want of it._

It'd only been him, however.

"Your lips," Daehyun's voice is strained like overly twisted strings on a violin. Daehyun hesitantly reaches upwards and tucks his hand under the side of Youngjae's face and fingers on his cheek. Youngjae's face is small so Daehyun's rough hand takes up a good part of it, warmth seeping from skin to skin. Daehyun's adam's apple bobs up and down. "Chapped. They're chapped."

"Uh. Okay. T-Thanks for telling me," Youngjae replies uncomfortably, feeling the blood tap against his ears. Daehyun stares for a moment longer and gets off him, looking disoriented. He walks towards the door just as Youngjae gets up, heart oozing with faith that'd been buried since a few months ago.

He reaches out to grab Daehyun and pull him into a brotherly half hug. Maybe Daehyun had been trying to reconcile with him, telling him he still cares, no matter how weirdly and awkwardly he'd done it. _Are we back to being ourselves?_

"Also, for our continent tour." Daehyun's hand pauses on the doorknob and so does Youngjae's outstretched one. "I want to switch and room with Jongup. I hope you don't mind."

The shock grapples at Youngjae's mind and soon, the fiery bewilderment and anger from everything, no, _Daehyun_ making no sense washes over him.

By then, the door clicks open and Daehyun walks out.

Youngjae doesn't have enough time to scream.

 


	8. cracks (exposure to cold)

 

Youngjae had once, not too long ago, been able to declare he was one of the less childish ones in the group despite being third youngest. He could easily outrank Himchan in maturity (or so he thought) and he had taken pride in the fact that Yongguk went to him often when discussing group dynamics and issues he had noticed the members were going through.

They say you never really grow up. The part of you buried in Neverland fantasies still holds on to Tinkerbell's torn wings and you don't stop nibbling on the loose skin of your thumbs. A part of that childhood innocence consists of messy fights and petulant yells of _he did it!_

Youngjae has grown out of running to his mother to tattletale on whoever had taken his toys and made him mad. But he thinks the notion behind the incessant kicking under the table between siblings, each hit harder than the previous, hasn't left him fully.

"Jonguppie," Youngjae whines, falling into Jongup's lap. _Don't look_ , he forces himself to keep his eyes fixated on the boy above him, tapping on his gameboy. There is no desire to look at the two guys at the other end of the lounge, feeding one another snacks while waiting for their concert to start.

Hit the ball back into the court twice as hard. _You want a fight; I'll give you a fight._

"Hyungie," Jongup teases, running a hand through Youngjae's hair. Jongup's thighs are warm and his eyes are kind. Guilt stirs in his gut; Youngjae has no right to be manipulating a boy this pure. Junhong shrieks all of a sudden, begging Daehyun to stop as the other tickles him persistently.

People argue all the time for the stupidest reasons. Sometimes, you keep up the yelling even though you have no idea what you're saying. Just scream louder so you can drown out your opponent, fueled by a rage with no basis and rationale. You forgot after a while what the whole point of this argument was for. It's a petty aspect of human nature and for some, they never out grow it. This fixation on victory, winning, wanting the last laugh, _aren't I better than that?_

"Youngjae, get off of Jongup," their manager chides, waving the stylist towards Jongup. "You've got your make-up done; don't hold up the others." Youngjae makes a face, narrowing his eyes at their manager before finally relenting. He saunters to the couch, making sure not to look at the duo still having their fair share of laughter in the corner and draping himself over the arm of the sofa.

"Yah, you lazy bum." Someone pokes him in the back of his head and he shoots upright, flushing a little upon seeing Jieun. He'd been particularly nervous about this trip because his Secret seniors had tagged along for their music video filming. He'd never been good with girls; his last girlfriend was older and had made the first move.

_Pretty_. Jieun's lips are striking red and her eyes are large, light brown contacts highlighting their size. She crosses her legs, milky thighs brushing against one another. It's been a long time since Youngjae has been in a relationship.

"I see life hasn't been treating you so well." Jieun empathetically pats Youngjae's dark circles, causing the boy to get flustered. "Take care of yourself. You'll hit big soon; just gotta keep digging." Youngjae nods, smiling lightly.

Hyosung settles down on the couch beside them, stretching herself with her gaze glued to her phone. She laughs, tapping on the screen and shaking her head. "Look at what Kikwang sent me," she rambles, extending her arm.

_Noona, this fan gave me a fanart of Yoseob-hyung naked!!!! T_T My eyes!!! I don't know how to face Yoseob-hyung anymore huhu. Can I hide at your dorm? >< kekeke_

Youngjae blurts out a short laugh and Hyosung nudges him with a teasing smile. "Ah, these shippers are making poor Kikwangie uncomfortable." Jieun knits her eyebrows together, ponytail bouncing when she turns her head. "Why would he feel uncomfortable?"

Hyosung prods at her chin, pondering. "Well, seeing these kind of things will make you feel weird, right? You wouldn't want to be thought of as gay. And it makes the two friends awkward; they'll start to wonder if what they do with one another can be considered romantic." Hyosung elaborates, pursing her lips. Jieun's frown turns deeper. Junhong scoots over to Youngjae's side of the room at this moment upon being called, Daehyun hesitantly in tow.

"Oh, come on. Why does it matter?" Jieun folds her arms. She's always been the most logical and blunt of all the group members. "These kind of things shouldn't sway you if you're confident and sure of yourself." Hyosung whines, pouting at her boyfriend being shot down. "Besides, if you fall for a friend because someone said they were good girlfriend or boyfriend material, wouldn't that just be opening your eyes wider? Like, making you realise an attraction that's always been there? You wouldn't suddenly like someone because I showed you a naked drawing of them." Jieun rotates her head towards Youngjae, ruffling his hair.

"You agree with noona, right, Youngjae?" The boy stills under Jieun's gaze, briefly glancing at Daehyun. He's staring, eyes unreadable, but why would Youngjae ever be able to decipher Daehyun? They aren't friends anymore, after all.

"Yeah. It's stupid. If they're going to be stuck in someone else's perspective, they might as well not have eyes of their own. Just listen to whatever other people say, right? Be like a flock of mindless sheep, following a shepherd's orders." A bullet train out of his mouth—double the speed, no, triple it—out to crush Daehyun with all his might and hatred and-

_I miss you._

"If someone gets so worked up over what other people think and start to doubt themselves, that just shows they're weak and pathetic. Can't think for themselves." Youngjae's lips. Venom staining them blood red. Teeth biting so hard it'll draw crimson from raw flesh. Daehyun's lips.

_I want to hold you. Laugh with you. Fight with you over stupid things and make up without the need to say sorry._

"Uh, that was uncalled for, Youngjae." Jieun's voice is barely audible anymore. Hyosung looks ready to lash out, but something makes her retreat in confusion. Jieun places a hand on Youngjae's shoulder, glancing at the two with their eyes locked.

"Daehyun, Youngjae," Jieun calls out softly, just that whisper enough to send a crack through the tension between the duo. Youngjae can't remember Daehyun looking this tired ever since the day they met, his Busan accent lingering despite his delirious attempt to mask it. His eye circles can still be seen through his make-up, but he does not look simply physically exhausted. He looks troubled, like he's been for these past few months. Only Youngjae never bothered to admit it, because Daehyun wouldn't let him in.

Youngjae doesn't want to break their stare-off because this has been the only tangible bridge between them for a long while.

Daehyun's eyes are narrowed and his stature towers over the three sitting figures, the distance between them relatively large but not secure enough to prevent a physical rift. At this moment, Youngjae hopes glares can kill so he'll know whether he's looking at Daehyun because he loathes him or because he wants to remember the face of the boy he'd come to love. His best friend. What a farce.

Youngjae stands. Hyosung sucks in a sharp breath and Jieun shifts to the edge, stance ready to jump between the two. Some of the stylists have noticed the suspenseful commotion, brushes in the air and necks craned to get a better look.

He storms out, the chatter leaving his ears and a blast of fresh air hitting his face. He messily wipes at his tears, the taste of metal on his tongue as he wills himself not to cry else the make-up will run and his face will be left naked like an open book. 

Chapped. They're chapped.

Daehyun's lips are chapped.

 


	9. through the looking glass

 

"I know you two are having some... misunderstandings at the moment. But it sells, Youngjae. Every group does fanservice; I'm sure you know that. Some rely completely on fanservice to climb their way to the top. That's why there's always those sort of rankings for most liked pairings amongst idols. Don't let it go to waste, okay? I'm not asking you to hang out with him twenty-four-seven. Just in front of the fans. It really helps to boost popularity, Youngjae."

"...Okay."

 

 

 

 

 

[PREVIEW] 130502 Youngjae leaving Wanbyeok Concert Hall

 **Comments** (1)

_Handsome_

 

**DOWN**

 

[FANCAM] 130507 Youngjae at TS building

 **Comments** (0)

 

**THE**

 

[PREVIEW] 130510 Youngjae at Incheon Airport

 **Comments** (3)

_Aww!!! Peace, Youngjae-ah~_

_Cute... Why are you pouting ^^ Do you miss us_

_Adorableeee_

 

**RABBIT**

 

[FANCAM] 130511 Daehyun and Youngjae moment at Wonderland Theatre

 **Comments** (29)

_Oh my god!!!!!_

_So cute ahhhhhhhhhhhh._

_They look so perfect together T.T_

_Did they kiss?! *o* Youngjae blushed_

_Daehyun oppa, take care of Youngjae oppa well okay >.<_

See more

 

**HOLE**

 

[PREVIEW] 130513 Youngjae at Mad Tea-Party Café + Autograph

 **Comments** (10)

_Like a lost puppy~_

_His pinky sticks out when he drinks kekeke how adorable >w<_

_Who is this guy? He is prettier than I'll ever be huhu v.v_

_Look at his lips jutting out waa like a little boy_

_His jawline is magnificent @_@_

See More

 

**LOSE**

 

[UPDATE] 130514 Youngjae's tweet + selca

 **Comments** (16)

_Youngjae used so much aegyo keke keep doing it!! u.u it suits you!!_

_I can't stand this, he's my bias now_

_Angel... ^^ Take one with Daehyun_

_Oppa, have you eaten? Where are the rest_

_Jaejae aigoo so cute it hurts ><_

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**ALL**

 

[PREVIEW] 130515 Daehyun and Youngjae post-concert

 **Comments** (37)

_Do you feel warm now Youngjae? kekeke like a couple_

_Daehyun oppa is so attractive..._

_The way Youngjae snuggled up to Daehyun ahhhh kitty~_

_Daehyun oppa, your arms are getting so muscular x_x_

_Our Youngjae is becoming cuter lately_

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**SELF**

 

[PREVIEW] 130515 Youngjae at convenience store

 **Comments** (21)

_How did the cashier not faint at his cuteness_

_Omo, he looked into the camera directly!? Those puppy eyes!!!!_

_His smile aish *////*_

_Bring one of the members, oppa. It's not safe to go alone_

_Why did I not notice this side of him until now ~.~!!!!_

See More

 

**CONTROL**

 

[FANACC] 130516 B.A.P Live On Earth Concert at Duchess' House Auditorium

...Youngjae was so goddamn cute! He slipped up a lot today, lol, tripping during his dances. He kept coming down to the moshpit and picking out some fanboards. Then he sat at one corner of the stage, skimming through them and then he picked out this DaeJae fanboard. It was really funny because their faces were on the board and it was of Youngjae running away from Daehyun with a _lot_ of censored vulgarities pasted beside his head. He blinked at it, did this super lovable head tilt and laughed with one hand over his mouth. Then, he showed it to Daehyun who laughed a little, but kind of awkwardly. Don't think he found it that funny, lol.  

 

 **Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.**  

 

Anyway, Youngjae was so engrossed in looking through the fanboards that he missed his line in Crash. Us fans near him told him about it and he pouted, making a sulky face. Then he came nearer to us, blowing kisses and doing this finger to finger poke. He was so busy that he forgot to sing his next line lol.  

 

 **I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then.**  

 

I think Himchan noticed Youngjae kept missing his parts so he walked all the way from the extended stage to the left. He squatted down beside Youngjae, tapping him on the shoulder then whispering into his ear. He looked worried which was really sweet.

 

**_You're not the same as you were before. You were much more... "muchier". You've lost your muchness. Why?_ **

 

They stared at one another and Himchan started frowning HAHAHA. Youngjae shrugged after a while and waved the boards around like he was a five year old with candy, god. He handed the boards back to us and skipped over to the other side.

 

**I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?**

 

DaeJae moment! They bumped into one another and Daehyun's eyes went so wide. Youngjae just laughed and pulled him into a hug awwww. They held hands! Well, more of Youngjae dragging him away lol. It was seriously the cutest moment of the entire two hours. They're so close; it makes me jealous ahh. I think we all want a DaeJae kind of friendship in our lives. On to Jongup...

 

**It's all just a dream. He was part of my dream, of course—but am I part of his?**

 

_END_

 

What are you doing, Youngjae?

It's past curtain call.

Take off your costume.

Bathroom's down the hall.

 

 

 

 

 

Nowadays, I keep rewatching our old videos and looking through our message history. I like to pretend we're still who we used to be so I don't have to believe you're not there anymore.

Nowadays, when I see you, I can't recognise you anymore. They call it the circle of life, right? We're back to where we started—strangers, again. Had everything been a dream? Nothing makes sense. Aren't I worth more than a misconception? Perhaps not.

... I just want to know what's going on, Daehyun. Please. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much.

_"You are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain."_

 

 

 

 

 

Even though we never said it, I always thought we would be the kind of friends who would last till the end of time.

_"How long is forever?" Alice—with his bright red lips, his sad doe eyes—asked._

_The White Rabbit—with his back turned, his Busan accent—replied, "Sometimes, just one second."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several references to Alice in Wonderland; there's a lot of quotes taken from there. These are the original ones I tweaked:
> 
> "You're not the same as you were before. You were much more... "muchier". You've lost your muchness."
> 
> "He was part of my dream, of course—but then I was part of his dream, too!"
> 
> Also, one quote from The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls:
> 
> "You are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain."


	10. and the bridge comes falling down

 

Morning seeps through the window in beams, grabbing at the linens of Youngjae's blanket. He rolls over, growling, but the sunlight is persistent to pull him out of bed. He pulls his quilt over his head, trying to block out the blinding light, before a voice penetrates his thoughts.

"Come on, Youngjae." Someone prods him when he doesn't respond and he whines, swatting away at who he thinks is Yongguk. "Daehyun, can you wake Youngjae up?" Yongguk asks while Youngjae grabs onto a hand. He shoots up at Daehyun's name and realises it's Daehyun's hand he has in his grasp whereas Yongguk is standing by his side. He instantly lets go and throws the covers off him, hobbling out of bed.

"I'm up," he grumbles while Yongguk emits a chuckle. Youngjae doesn't spare Daehyun even a glance as he groggily exits the room, bumping into Jongup on the way. He hears Yongguk mutter something about _is he okay?_ and no answer following behind.

They gather in Himchan's room, flicking on a random variety show. Daehyun arrives and settles down on the floor while Jongup takes the space beside Youngjae and beckons for Junhong to sit with them. Himchan stomps over and sits on the arm rest beside Youngjae, closely inspecting his face.

"You look tired." Himchan has been nagging an awful lot lately. Youngjae would appreciate it on a better day, but he's still disorientated from his dream, so he ignores Himchan, shuts his eyes and tries to recall it. The world is chattering but he hears nothing. The lights blind him and there are people all around him, bending to the non-existent music. His hair clumps to his face as sweat streaks down his body, him shutting his eyes and absorbing the atmosphere. The club is overwhelming with energy, and he lets loose for a while more as he brings the glass to his lips. His throat burns and suddenly, he feels an oddly familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist. A breeze bristles the hairs on his neck.

Daehyun's holding him. His warmth is intoxicating, more so than the alcohol. Youngjae's skin burns and his breath catches in his throat. He pushes himself further into Daehyun as Daehyun tightens his grip, lips so close to his ear he can feel every of Daehyun's pants. They sway to the music and the universe tumbles and turns, but Daehyun's the only thing holding him down. Youngjae is spun around and Daehyun faces him, their noses touching. Daehyun's eyeliner is on so thick Youngjae wonders if it'll disfigure him. He wants to wipe it away, wipe away all the wrinkles and darkness haunting his gaunt cheeks and tired smiles.

The tears come to his eyes and Daehyun murmurs something but he can't hear anything. He resorts to reading his lips. _Youngjae, I-_

A finger to his eyelashes snaps him out of his trance. The contact has him shrinking back into the sofa. _What had happened afterwards?_ "Look at those eye bags. You should get more sleep," Himchan scoffs and leans into him. He is being unusually persistent, for what reason, Youngjae isn't sure.

"Says the one who sleeps more than a Koala does," Youngjae murmurs, smiling for the sake of it. Himchan laughs a bit too hard and sneaks a hand around his neck. Yongguk hands him a sandwich but he rejects it, patting his cheeks and wincing at the extra fat he'd put on a few weeks ago due to his binge.

"Eat." Himchan's grip tightens and Youngjae lets out an inaudible, irritated sigh. "I'm not hungry, hyung," he replies more coldly than intended. Daehyun suddenly laughs, loud voice piercing through their conversation as he slaps Yongguk roughly on the back, pulling him into a tight hug. He points at the television screen, grinning at the bewildered pranked host.

Youngjae stretches his neck, letting his head loll towards Himchan with a roll of the eyes. He can't identify the catalyst for how grouchy he is but he has an inkling his undecipherable dream has something to do with it. It's not as though he feels his annoyance isn't justified with Daehyun and his ridiculous avoidance game, but Youngjae has always kept his ire at bay to be undetected. ( _That's what you think_.) Pretend that if Daehyun walks out of his life, he wouldn't notice a single difference. ( _You broke the other day. Collapsed, along with the bridge he'd set fire to. You stood there like an idiot as he took out the lighter._ ) He admits it's a spiteful way but Daehyun had asked to play; he's only being a cooperative sport by hitting the rebound.

(I'm tired. Just hate me; I'm too tired to be hurt.)

(I'm too hurt to be hurt.)

Himchan exhales dejectedly and wears a small smile. "You're right. We should kick off our rest day with something good." He hands Youngjae his beanie and a mask as another cackle explodes from Daehyun and Youngjae rips his stare away from Daehyun's arm tightly draped over Yongguk's neck. "Let's go get breakfast."

Youngjae has never been a morning person. More than anything else, he enjoys staying in during mornings and letting the ache of his limbs slither away as he buries himself within sheets. Create a dome of white that fits only him so he can tune out the rest of the world and think for that few hours about himself. But the moment Daehyun pulls Yongguk further towards him, hand resting on Yongguk's cheek, he rises tiredly with a nod. He doesn't turn back to look at any of his teammates as he walks out the door.

He briefly hears Himchan collecting orders and Junhong's excited yell. Daehyun replies equally as enthusiastic, but Youngjae can hear a queer strain in his voice. _Like hell I'm buying any shit for him_ , Youngjae thinks as Himchan shuts the door and their steps fall in sync. Silence wafts around them, Youngjae sinking into the stillness in an effort to preserve the time.

"I like it." Youngjae whirs his head towards Himchan, barely able to cock an eyebrow due to his fatigue. "Like what, hyung?" He enquires as they step into the elevator, Himchan stepping away to give him more space.

"When you get angry," Himchan replies easily, jabbing at buttons. Youngjae stares hard at the other, tilting his head in confusion. Himchan glances back, evidently searching his eyes as his glimpse jumps from one pupil to another.

"It tells me you're still there. That you're still you," Himchan explains, his light-hearted tone contrasting the weight in his words. Youngjae furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean, hyung?"

They exit the building, the cold breeze of dying winter beating against their faces as they amble down the streets. His chapped lips tear against the fabric of his face mask and he tastes just a bit of iron.

Himchan turns to face him as retail stores flicker past them. All jibberish in a language he can't understand. "Don't you think it's tiring to keep on smiling?" Himchan beams at this moment, but the grin barely infiltrates his dark brown eyes. Youngjae shrugs.

"We're paid to do so; it's our job, hyung. A duty. I don't want to make the fans worry," he retorts, holding open the restaurant door for Himchan. Himchan doesn't spare him a glance as he treads in. "But that doesn't make us any less human," he says and meanders up to the counter. "Less _us._ We get mad. We get upset. It's all part of being human."

Youngjae stops halfway in the midst of grabbing some utensils. He stares at Himchan, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to decipher him. Himchan doesn't meet his gaze however, casually ordering and leaving Youngjae bewildered.

 _If he won't tell me what he's trying to say, then it's none of my business,_ Youngjae thinks as he grabs a few bags from Himchan. They chat the rest of their way, the eeriness of Himchan's words still pecking at the back of his head. Does Himchan know something he doesn't know?

He's certain Himchan knows about what's going on between him and Daehyun. Heck, everyone knows. He's just not too sure whether they know why Daehyun is avoiding him; he's not sure himself, honestly. _So much for a friendship_ , the bitterness sinks in again and chews at his ribs.

The thought of Himchan sitting him down for a talk about Daehyun and him sends an unidentifiable feeling up to his throat. Is it irritation that Himchan's butting into their business? Is it dread that they're going to have to resolve this someday, and he doesn't know how to? Is it embarrassment, because they're like children at the playground fighting over the swings?

_It's not my problem. Daehyun started it._

Himchan nudges him into the dorm as Junhong leaps over, excitedly removing the bags from Youngjae's red wrists. Jongup pats his arms a little and does the same to Himchan, igniting a laugh in all of them. Yongguk comes over to unpack the food, while Daehyun continues sitting on the floor.

Youngjae glances at Daehyun while he's handing Yongguk his fried noodles. He swears he sees him twitch the moment he does, but he shrugs it off and smiles when Himchan cracks a joke towards him.

(I'm tired. I'm really tired, hyung.)

Junhong, Himchan and him settle at the table while Yongguk and Jongup join Daehyun by the bed.

"Hyung." Youngjae raises an eyebrow, blinking at Junhong. He angles his chin towards Youngjae's propped up arms.

"You've been sticking out your pinky a lot lately," Junhong snickers, making Youngjae flush and retract his finger. He nearly pouts but shakes away the inclination, glaring at the youngest of the group.

"It's getting to him," Yongguk teases. "Flower boy Yoo Youngjae."

Daehyun walks towards them at this moment and Youngjae feels the exhaustion pile up in his nerves. He wishes to hand Daehyun his food, laugh when Daehyun chokes, but he's learnt since a long time ago that wishes are things you can't attain with your own capabilities. That's why you have to resort to pathetically believing in a fantasy to get it.

Youngjae walks out. "I'm going down for a stroll," he supplies, even though his legs hurt and he's exhausted from dance practice. He leaves the door open behind him because he knows Himchan will chase after him and he'll be relentless in his pursuit. Why bother?

Himchan does. Youngjae pushes open the door to the stairs and makes it down half a flight before Himchan grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around. It oddly feels like Youngjae's dream and Youngjae nearly reaches out for Himchan to wind his arms around his waist like Daehyun had.

_Pathetic. I'm resorting to pretend, now. I thought I grew out of that, but I guess not._

Himchan stares him down, concern etched into his eyes. They stay like that for a while, Youngjae glaring back to challenge Himchan to spit out the words. Let the worry melt his walls that never were and leave him bare and vulnerable.

"Youngjae," Himchan begins, hesitant and gentle. Youngjae hates the way he's speaking to him, as though Youngjae needs to be treated with extra care. Like he's a fragile doll, incapable of settling his own business. Like he's a wounded animal, because his closest friend ( _soulmate_ ) abandoned him out of fear.

_Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic._

"Why are you avoiding him?" Himchan asks, voice nearly inaudible. He doesn't give a name but it's clear who he's referring to. Youngjae clenches his fists and grits his teeth so hard he thinks it'll break his jaw along with the rest of his head.

"Simple. Because he's avoiding me." It comes out more childish than intended, instead of the simple, perfectly logical equation Youngjae had worked out in his mind. His nails pierce into his skin and his veins pulse visibly down his arms.

Himchan's eyelids fall, his lips pressing together. He extends his arms and his smooth palms run past Youngjae's cheeks, taking away the tears on them. _No_ , Youngjae begs as his vision turns blurry, desperately trying to calm down the rush crunching up into his throat and stop the tears from falling. _I can't lose. I can't fall._

Himchan's grip is delicate, tender and loving. Youngjae finds his nose buried into the nook of Himchan's neck, his arms grabbing on to Himchan like he's his last lifeline. His scent is comforting and familiar, and the image of Himchan's eye circles are imprinted into his memory.

"I miss him," Youngjae breathes, choking weakly as he crumbles into nothing. Daehyun had been there to pick up the pieces in the past; now, he's grateful Himchan is there to catch him as he falls. "I miss him, hyung."

"I know." Himchan tangles his fingers through Youngjae's hair, touch affectionate and careful. Youngjae wants to apologise, say how sorry he is because Himchan's so fucking tired and he has his own bullshit to deal with, yet he's here having to take care of Youngjae. Glue back the fragments and fix him up even though he's a repairman without proper blueprints, unassigned and unpaid.

But all Youngjae does is cry harder.

 

 _Our bridge is falling down,_  
 _Falling down, falling down,_  
 _Our bridge is falling down,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Build it up with wood and clay,_  
 _Wood and clay, wood and clay,_  
 _Build it up with wood and clay,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Wood and clay will wash away,_  
 _Wash away, wash away,_  
 _Wood and clay will wash away,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Build it up with bricks and mortar,_  
 _Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,_  
 _Build it up with bricks and mortar,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Bricks and mortar will not stay,_  
 _Will not stay, will not stay,_  
 _Bricks and mortar will not stay,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Build it up with iron and steel,_  
 _Iron and steel, iron and steel,_  
 _Build it up with iron and steel,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Iron and steel will bend and bow,_  
 _Bend and bow, bend and bow,_  
 _Iron and steel will bend and bow,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Build it up with silver and gold,_  
 _Silver and gold, silver and gold,_  
 _Build it up with silver and gold,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Silver and gold will be stolen away,_  
 _Stolen away, stolen away,_  
 _Silver and gold will be stolen away,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Build it up with love and care,_  
 _Love and care, love and care,_  
 _Build it up with love and care,_  
 _My fair boy._  
  
_Love and care will burn away,_  
 _Burn away, burn away,_  
 _With the limelight and his hate,_  
 _My fair boy._

 


	11. walking on eggshells

 

_Little Daehyun sat on a wall._

Help, I can't get down.

_Little Daehyun had a great fall._

No, there must be another way.

_All the king's horses and all the king's men,_

Someone, help me. Please.

_Couldn't put Daehyun together again._

Help me.

 

 

 

 

 

 _If you didn't want to fall,_  
You should have never climbed up that wall.  
But he was up there, _Daehyun cried,_  
That beautiful boy, black-haired and brown-eyed.  
  
_With both of you up that wall,_  
The weight's too heavy and it starts to loll.  
It's bound to crumble,  
And then both of you are going to stumble.  
  
But you've learnt your lesson, haven't you?  
Now that your heart is all black and blue.  
Little Daehyun, do not bawl,  
Just push little Youngjae off the wall.  
  
But I can't push Youngjae away, _Daehyun said,_  
He'll bruise and hurt, and his skin will shred.  
_In the first place, you should have never gotten close to him,_  
Now one of you has to give up a limb.  
  
It's all my fault, _Daehyun sobbed,_ I should have turned around.  
_Fret not, little Daehyun. Look closely at the ground._  
Under you is cement while below Youngjae is mud.  
If Youngjae falls, he'll shed less blood.  
  
It's either you save yourself or you fall.  
Little Daehyun, it's your call.  
  
I'm sorry, Youngjae.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_No one will catch you when you fall, Daehyun. You'll crack your skull and bleed out, and no one will be able to fix you._

But Youngjae always picks me back up.

_Will he, this time?_

 

 

 

 

 

_Little did Daehyun know he'd already fallen since a long time ago and broken all of the bones in his body. Paralysed with his spine fractured and leaving no support, kept in a standstill with the rough asphalt against his cheek and the all too bright light beating down against him, breath caught in his throat._

_Are you sorry for what you've done, Youngjae?_

_You tipped him over. Sweet, innocent Youngjae with his boyish grins and rough nudges had tipped him over, all without a single ounce of knowledge._

 


	12. i'll hide and you'll seek

  

 **LET'S PLAY THE AVOIDANCE GAME!**  
(for ages nine and below)

 

 **PLAYER 1:** Jung Daehyun

 **PLAYER 2:** Yoo Youngjae

 

**How To Play**

#1 Avoid the other player for as long as possible.

#2 It is encouraged that you show you are completely unaware of the other player's presence.

#3 Do not show that you are affected by the other player.

#4 The person who cracks first loses!

TIP: Use allies to spite the other player.

 

**READY?**

**YES** /NO

 

 

 

 

 

**ROUND 1**

_Server: Player 1_

 

 

 _This is gospel for the fallen ones_  
Locked away in permanent slumber  
Assembling their philosophies  
From pieces of broken memories

 

 

"Youngjae." Himchan comes into view, effectively shielding Youngjae from the taunting display before him. Youngjae continues using his phone for a moment before looking up, raising an eyebrow as though completely unaware. "I'm tired," Himchan whines, plopping onto the chair beside him and flaring his nostrils. Youngjae scoffs, wanting to poke him but afraid to ruin his make-up.

"No one will believe you're an idol, hyung." Youngjae imitates Himchan's snort and Himchan threateningly raises his hand. Youngjae ducks and they end up wrestling one another, trying not to fall off the chair. Youngjae puffs, his back bent as Himchan pushes him tauntingly down off the chair.

"Hey," Himchan whispers, him squishing Youngjae under his weight. "That girl to your left. She's hot." Youngjae glances towards the concert staff by the corner, the same direction as where Daehyun and Jongup are sitting. His gaze goes haywire—Daehyun's chin is still on Jongup's shoulder, prodding at his phone as Jongup swats him away.

"She is, isn't she?" Youngjae snaps back his attention, something undecipherable stirring in his gut. "Man, I haven't met a girl in this country that didn't meet my standards." Youngjae grimaces as Himchan continues laying on him, sighing contentedly. "You're gross. Get off me, hyung," Youngjae grumbles, attempting to pry Himchan off him.

"No, no, no," Himchan sings, gripping onto the chair and snuggling against Youngjae. A sudden yell disrupts the duo, Youngjae turning to see Daehyun pointing at Junhong. "Yah, Junhongie!" He whines. "It's my turn!" Junhong nonchalantly throws him a peace sign, twirling in his chair as the stylist gets her clips. "Sorry, hyung."

That means he'll have to do his make-up with Daehyun. Youngjae folds his lips, displeased.

There's a new smartwatch out on the market. Usually, Youngjae tells Daehyun about these kind of things because even though he's not into tech gadgets, he still listens attentively and comments unnecessarily on it. Now, Youngjae talks about it to Yongguk, because though Yongguk doesn't care either, he has the decency to act interested.

"Daehyun, Youngjae." Youngjae shoves Himchan off him, prodding him in the thigh and inciting a yelp in Himchan. He settles down, glancing in the mirror at Daehyun and Jongup. "Aw, but I wanted to see the ending," Daehyun insists, jabbing at Jongup's stomach.

"Daehyun," their manager warns and Daehyun huffs, tugging Jongup by the wrist. "Hey. Sit beside me. I want to watch the video."

Jongup obediently follows Daehyun, sitting in the chair beside Daehyun. The stylist occupies Youngjae's thoughts as he grips the arm rest. "The coordinator said you were the most gorgeous out of the group," the stylist remarks, making small talk. Youngjae tries to laugh as he pries the extra reflection in his mirror of Daehyun persistently leaning towards Jongup and cooing at the screen, in spite of the chastising he's receiving.

"Himchan-hyung's going to be jealous. He said she was pretty, noona," Youngjae replies lightly, the stylist puffing in amusement. "I saw you two fighting just now. I don't think she'll like any of you after seeing that." Daehyun emits an impressed hum at the video as the brush comes into contact with Youngjae's face.

Daehyun nearly tilts himself over the chair, as though desperate to get away from Youngjae. His laugh is annoying. Youngjae wishes for their manager to chastise him once and for all and instruct Jongup to sit far, far away from Daehyun. The stylist bends down, mumbling for Youngjae to stay still as she gets to work.

Youngjae remembers them competing over whose stylist would finish their make-up first. Youngjae always won because Daehyun had acne he needed to cover up and Youngjae would rub it in his face. Daehyun would get upset, but afterwards, they would be okay. They would always be okay.

There's none of that today. No poking one another like silly five-year-olds, giggling at something barely humorous. Tangled up in jump rope, inseparable, getting ecstastic over stupid things and playing hide and seek. While Youngjae's cooped up beside the dumpster waiting to be found, Daehyun has long forgotten about him and gained tons of other playmates.

Lower the opacity. Attain that full transparency and let not just his eyes pass through you but the limelight too as you stand in between him and the crowd. Youngjae's barely aware he's here with Daehyun so blatantly ignoring his presence, despite his reflection overturning his doubts. Is the mirror lying to him?

Youngjae is trusting Daehyun's eyes more than his. He can't but think how pitiful that is because his existence has long been erased from Daehyun's vision, yet he pines after his acknowledgement more so than his own. He stares hard at himself in the mirror, mapping out the outline of his hair and broad shoulders. Daehyun used to tell him how envious he was of that particular feature.

"Relax," the stylist reminds, her thumb against Youngjae's eyebrow. "If you keep on frowning, you'll ruin your foundation."

_You've got your mask on. Don't fuck it up._

Youngjae nods. Backstage, he hears the VCR play. "Remember what I told you," their manager whispers into his ear before they storm out onto the stage.

 _It's a circus_ , Youngjae realises a little too late. A circus with a particular theme every Sunday about the partnership (possibly interpreted as love) between two oddities, one ensconced in the other's shadow and chained down to his name. That's Youngjae's role as a trapeze artist. Balance it out and don't let that smile fall from his face or else the fans will worry and he doesn't want them to because they didn't pay a goddamn hundred bucks to see him mope around about his personal issues. They came here for the performance of a lifetime from a group they'd given so much to. He and Daehyun are the trapeze artists and Youngjae's job is to swing far enough to link limbs with Daehyun.

All for show. The performers are in position and Daehyun is paying no attention to him, like he's ignorant of their spectacle to spice things up. Youngjae needs to do it. He walks over to Daehyun but the other stealthily steers away. The anger pumps in his blood vessels and Youngjae's hands slip from the trapeze, him swinging back and forth with the momentum diminishing. Junhong roams over, flashing him an encouraging smile. The other three members are staring at him, quick glances and intentions clear. A stilt walker directly below him, promising to catch him if he falls. Three acrobats on the sidelines, ready to rush in in case of an accident. Daehyun is at the far end, paying no heed to him. He's not even bothering to reach out so Youngjae can hold on to him.

Maybe Youngjae's a clown walking the tight rope, oversized red shoes flapping against a stinging wire.

Youngjae needs to reach the other end where Daehyun is waiting, seemingly distancing himself further and further. If he gives up and lets go, he'll crush the rest and the show will come to a momentary halt. How unprofessional.

Daehyun winds around once Youngjae nears him and Youngjae catches a fan squinting in confusion, whispering something into the ear of her friend. Youngjae grabs Daehyun by the sleeve and almost plunges fifty feet down. A little sloppy on the landing, but he's throw himself across into Daehyun's grasp.

He locks arms with Daehyun and waves to the crowd, snuggling up against him. Daehyun slowly tightens his hold, smile more dashing than ever before. They're both cut out to be actors, Youngjae thinks, because Daehyun jerks whenever their palms touch and Youngjae lets go the moment they're covered by the curtains.

"You okay?" Yongguk asks gruffly, still catching his breath from their last performance. The urge to pout and skip like a four year old girl is taunting and he wipes the lipstick off his face. It smudges against his cheek and his wrist, and his reflection in the mirror resembles a clown.

"I don't like lying to them," Youngjae admits as he sits beside him, shutting his eyes. The cheers for an encore still resonate from behind him. "But I don't want them to worry. They don't deserve the burden." _We're supposed to be able to handle things on our own._

"It's not their fault, hyung."  _It's Daehyun's._ "They shouldn't be worried for us."

 _The show must go on._ Yongguk looks at him solemnly. "It's one or the other."

 

 

It's becoming harder for Youngjae to sleep nowadays. He tosses and turns and his body screams for sleep but his eyes are painfully awake under the cover of his eyelids. His thoughts are consuming, demanding all the space in his head. _Daehyun_. The wind chimes Jongup has hung up by the window sings a soft tune from the living room. Youngjae thinks of bells by a small house he'd seen the other day while the van zoomed past, a front porch of wild weeds and a child scurrying about.

Youngjae dreams of a meadow, the sound of Jongup's wind chimes ringing in his ears. The wind breezes past his face and he leans further into the grass patch, green extending to the horizon.

Daehyun is by his side on the picnic mat. He's a lot younger, his buck teeth still visible and hair ruffled, like the day Youngjae first met him.

"Hi," Youngjae starts, unsure of his own words. Daehyun turns to him with a quizzical look on his face, amused smile dangling from his lips. "Hi," Daehyun replies, voice soft and reminiscent of how he'd introduced himself, trying to cover up his accent. Youngjae stares at Daehyun for a moment longer, before turning away.

"How have you been?" Youngjae asks, the words sad and frail like the leaves on the tree beside them. Daehyun shifts, his shirt riding up his thin stomach. His gaunt arm reaches out to grab an apple from the basket and he bites, the crunch resounding past Youngjae. "Fine. How about you?"

Youngjae veers his head towards Daehyun, taking in his skinny form. He looks so bare; it's calming. No artificiality that the PDs or their concert reviewers demand for, everything natural. The leaves rustle in the distance, the sunshine meek and welcoming.

"I'm fine too," Youngjae settles on saying. Silence simmers in, Daehyun chewing on his apple. Something cold meets his lips and he finds the apple in front of him, Daehyun waiting expectantly. Youngjae shakes his head but Daehyun insistently presses it to his mouth.

"You're not going to get fat, Youngjae," Daehyun chuckles reassuringly. Youngjae remembers Daehyun pinching his tummy fat and promising to accompany Youngjae to the gym after the latter's binge. "Forbidden fruit," Youngjae lamely jokes, but takes a bite anyway. It's sweet.

They stay like that for a while, the meek melody of metal chimes as company. The grass tickles Youngjae's skin and he stares up at the blue sky, reaching out for it. He grabs on to nothing, but before he retracts his arm, Daehyun places the half-eaten apple in his hand. "Eat," he states. Youngjae stares at him and does as told.

Daehyun rises once only the core of the apple is left in Youngjae's grip. A panic assails Youngjae as he shifts to sit upright, doe eyes on Daehyun like a puppy afraid of abandonment. "Hey. Let's take a walk." Youngjae acquiesces, climbing to his feet.

They walk side by side, elbows brushing and Daehyun humming a tune of his favourite ballad. Halfway, Youngjae accidentally trips and falls on his bum, thankfully right before a mud puddle. His feet manage to catch the slimy dirt, however, igniting a loud guffaw in Daehyun. Youngjae scrunches up his nose, lamenting his red shoes getting dirty. Daehyun bends down, inspecting the damage.

"Stop looking," Youngjae grumbles, squirming out of Daehyun's view. "It's embarrassing." He tries to clean off the mud, struggling to get his sneakers off, only to have Daehyun squat in front of him and tug them off. Daehyun chucks off his own slippers and ambles to pond before Youngjae can protest, dipping it in the water and shaking it hard.

He places the shoes on a stone, retreating from the bank and settling amidst green and white. Youngjae reluctantly wears Daehyun's slippers and joins him. They sit in a field of white dandelions, Daehyun's large hands squashing a few underneath his palms.

"I bought those shoes for you," Youngjae croaks. Daehyun sniggers. "No wonder they were loose on your feet." Youngjae shoves Daehyun and they stifle back a bout of laughter.

"I miss you." Youngjae's maroon shoes sit motionlessly by the serene pond, water lilies floating by. Daehyun grins, smile genuine and soothing. "You see me every day."

Youngjae stays quiet, watching the white petals of the lotus flutter. "But I still miss you," Youngjae speaks as the flower reaches the shore. Daehyun chuckles, fist to his lips.

"You know," Daehyun hums, his Busan accent strong in the air. "They say the number of breaths you take to blow all the seeds off a dandelion is equal to the number of years you'll take to meet your true love." Youngjae snorts, rotating his head away. "That's stupid."

Daehyun laughs, leaning back. "You've never believed in these kind of things." He plucks out a stalk, handing it to Youngjae. "Come on. Just try it."

"Fine," Youngjae concedes, taking the small puffball. He puckers his lips to blow at it, but the wind coaxes the seeds away before he can. Daehyun chortles, Youngjae adamantly pulling out another strand and taking a deep breath. The wind takes them away again, small white beads bumping against Daehyun's face. It's now Youngjae's turn to laugh as Daehyun swats them away.

Youngjae forgets his shoes.

 

 

 

 

 

 **SCORE:**  15-LOVE

 

 

 

 

 

Through the ajar bedroom door, Youngjae can see Daehyun lying on the couch. He's wearing a white wife beater along with light grey track pants. There's a chalky wet towel on his face, his hands resting on his stomach. Youngjae's gaze veers to Daehyun's arms, bulky and well-crafted. Daehyun may have a narrow built, but he'd truly made up for the lack of shoulders with his buff arms. Youngjae stares a little longer and pinches his own stomach out of habit.

From this far, Youngjae can't confirm if Daehyun's chest is moving. An eerie feeling grapples at him as he shifts off the bed, taking a better look at Daehyun. Dressed in all white with his face covered, it's instinctive to think of the dead. The black sofa is the coffin and Daehyun's corpse is above it.

Youngjae shudders at the thought, but it bugs him persistently. If he were to live longer than Daehyun, what would he say at his funeral? A tearful eulogy made of broken hearts and unsaid words befitting of a best friend who never was. In their next lives, maybe they'd meet again. Start over and extend a hand. _Hi, I'm Yoo Youngjae_. Would Daehyun want to make friends again?

Youngjae's phone buzzes in his palms. He snaps out of his reverie, the chills still sneaking up his spine. Daehyun removes the cloth from his face and the preposterous, illogical misgiving lingering in Youngjae's head crumples into dust. "Himchan-hyung," Daehyun bellows, patting his face. "It's still swollen."

"You're hopeless," Himchan calls from the kitchen. He emerges with a basin of iced water, the cubes clacking against the plastic rim. He places it on the table, folding his arms. "Dip your face in this."

"Hyung, are you crazy?" Daehyun gawps, aghast. Himchan presses Daehyun's head down lightly above the bucket, letting it bob back up again and pushing it down. "It helps to clear your pores, idiot. I want you to drown yourself in it, understand?"

Daehyun whacks Himchan's arm away. He blinks at it with a contorted face before conceding. He gradually lowers his head, twitching when his skin makes contact with the cold liquid. "Hold your breath and stay down," Himchan orders.

Junhong peeks into Youngjae's room at this instant, chin bumping against the door frame. "Hyung, what are you doing?" He drums out a rhythm on the wall.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Youngjae deadpans. Junhong eagerly leaps into Youngjae's bed, nodding fervently. "Hyung," he sings, wiggling up to Youngjae's side. "Who are you texting? Your girlfriend?"

Youngjae scoffs, grinning. "I'm going to tell Donggeun you called him my girlfriend." Junhong curiously hums. "Hey, can I see your wallpaper?"

Youngjae relents, letting go of his phone as it continuously vibrates. Junhong inspects it for a moment, before bolting off the bed into the living room. Youngjae widens his eyes, scampering out after him. "Choi Junhong, you dumbass!"

Himchan shakes his head in amusement while Daehyun lifts himself up, softly gasping for breath. Junhong stands on the other side of the coffee table, cheekily waving Youngjae's phone. "What was your ex-girlfriend's name again, let's see..." Junhong scrolls through the contacts as Youngjae darts towards him, tiptoeing and barking at Junhong as he holds it out of reach.

"You better hand it over, idiot!" Annoyed, Youngjae shoves Junhong into the sofa and kneels over him, smothering Junhong in his shirt as he grabs for his phone. Junhong stubbornly waves it around, shrilling. Youngjae irritatedly sits down on Junhong's lap, choosing to seize Junhong's head and puckering his own lips threateningly. Junhong begins to screech.

"Don't know if you guys are aware but that position's quite compromising," Himchan helpfully pinpoints. Daehyun grabs his towel, wiping his face and tossing it over his shoulder. "I think I need some fresh air, hyung," Daehyun intones and breaks the current arrangement, heading for the door. "I'll be going down to the gym. Call me when you guys are getting dinner."

The door clicks shut barely a few seconds later. Junhong puts down his hand, tamely giving back Youngjae's phone. He leaves, but not before apologising quietly.

Youngjae isn't sure what he's sorry for.

 

 

Youngjae dreams of the ocean, wet sand reaching up to his toes. The sea splashes against the shore, water shooting upwards against the sea breeze. Daehyun is sitting by his side and their hands sink in the grains, inching nearer to one another.

"You're gone," Youngjae breathes, watching the ship by the docks set sail. A lady stands by the harbour, waving a white handkerchief. Youngjae can't see her face.

"I'm gone?" Daehyun repeats, to which Youngjae nods. Their fingers touch, Daehyun's rough skin against his soft hands. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Out there," Youngjae explains, swallowing down something hard in his throat. It menacingly scrapes down his neck. "Out there, you're gone."

Daehyun turns back wordlessly, them watching the ship cruise away. The seagulls yap above their heads, as though shrieking out their grievances. "Then, will you wait for me to come back?"

Youngjae deliberately shifts his arm, Daehyun's hand and his intertwining amidst golden grains. "That depends. Where are you going?" Daehyun hums, pondering for a short while. He decides, "To war. I don't know if I'll be able to come back."

"That doesn't matter," Youngjae asserts firmly, the prickly sand not at all daunting to his fingers in Daehyun's grasp. "What matters is whether you'll come back if you could. I'll wait if you will." He turns to look at the woman in a fluttering white gown, still waving her handkerchief. "A lot of wives get abandoned here. The husband goes to another country and starts a new family while the wife spends her whole life waiting for him."

"So I've heard," Daehyun replies easily. "Waiting's not easy when you don't know what's in store for you." The waves wash up to their knees, shells scattered underneath their feet. Youngjae is still wearing Daehyun's slippers.

"Do you ever think..." Youngjae utters, pulling his hand out of the sand and shaking off the specks. He draws out the shape of a hand beside Daehyun's one and places his fingers over it. "...They wait, and wait, and wait, and they start to go crazy?"

"That's certainly a possibility. That they drown in the longing." Youngjae clasps harder, the grains filling the space between his fingers. The quietness between them is sat upon by the woman's sobbing and the rush of currents.

"I want you back," Youngjae confesses. He lets go of the sand and rests his hand over Daehyun's. "I'm so desperate that I want you back in any form. Even unreal."

"Any form?" Daehyun sits closer, his warmth consoling. "Sounds like I died, and you're talking about reincarnation."

"Could be," Youngjae concludes, too tired to think of a proper response. Daehyun continues to move nearer. "What, so you're okay with me being your pet dog?"

Youngjae's laughter is permeated with mirth. "That'd be a dream come true." Daehyun elbows him, using it as an excuse to scoot even closer. "Idiot. What about me being your brother?"

"Yeah. I'd like that a lot," Youngjae concludes, envisioning the prospect. Their limbs graze one another. "How about son?" Youngjae frowns at the question. "That would be weird," he answers, "but okay."

"Then, how about lover?" Daehyun buries his head into the nape of Youngjae's neck and Youngjae stills. Daehyun guffaws obnoxiously at his reaction and Youngjae kicks him in the shin.

"Yes," Youngjae breathes, their fingers tangling and Daehyun's laughter against his skin. "That's fine too."

 

 

 

 

 

 **SCORE:**  30-LOVE

 

 

 

 

 

Visiting Daehyun in his dreams has become a habit. It's like dropping by an old friend's place by the countryside while Youngjae has moved all the way to the bustling, noisy city. He'd brought along a stranger by accident in the shoes of his friend. There's nothing he can do about it.

Youngjae's computer repeatedly spits out his Starcraft CD, refusing to load the contents. Youngjae tries for the seventh time and irritatedly slams his hands on the keyboard, chucking it onto the bed. He considers borrowing the other members' laptops, but on their outlandishly meagre breaks, the only thing the other members do is glue their face to their computers.

"Hyung," Youngjae calls, glancing at the two by the small table. Himchan is bent over Jongup, guiding him through his assessment books. Himchan grunts, accidentally knocking into the hotel room's television. "My laptop's broken."

"You can borrow mine, hyung," Jongup mumbles, tapping his pencil against the paper. "Or my tablet," Himchan offers.

"Your laptop doesn't read discs, Jongup. I want to play Starcraft." Himchan shrugs, nodding contentedly when Jongup gets a tough question correct. "Deal with it, Youngjae."

"This has been our only day off in months, hyung, and it's because the concert venue failed its inspection. I'm gonna enjoy it no matter what," Youngjae protests, knocking indignantly against his laptop. He looks out of the window, the late evening calm with a hint of oncoming rain in the air.

"I'm going down to fix it." Himchan turns to look at him. "Woah, what?" Youngjae gets off the bed, heading to his luggage for his coat. "It'll only take a few hours, hyung. If they can't fix it on the spot, I'll just head back to the hotel."

"Youngjae," Himchan intones, "we're in Jeju. None of us know our way around here. You'll get lost."

"I'll be fine," Youngjae reassures, dumping his jacket onto the bed. "It's not like we're in a foreign country."

"Can't you do something else? We aren't familiar with the area," Himchan argues and pats Jongup lightly on the neck when he finishes the page. Youngjae flashes him a look of determination, clearly unwilling to change his mind. Himchan sighs.

"At least bring someone with you." Youngjae relents, nodding while exuding a long breath. Himchan crosses his brows in thought. "I can't go down with you since I've got to help Jongup with his upcoming exam. Yongguk's out with our manager."

"I'll bring Junhong along," Youngjae instantly returns, making a move towards Junhong's room. "Are you serious? Both of you are just going to get lost together." Himchan releases the red pen in his hand, tossing his spectacles onto the nightstand. "I'll go get Daehyun."

"Wait, hyung," Youngjae blurts but Himchan is already out the door, going to the neighbouring hotel unit. He knocks as Youngjae follows behind, loud protests abruptly ceasing once the door swings open.

"Daehyun, are you free now?" Youngjae can't see Daehyun because Himchan is blocking the small gap Daehyun has allowed. "Yeah, hyung. What's up?"

"Can you accompany Youngjae down to find a repair shop? He broke his computer." It'd almost seem like Daehyun hadn't heard the question, silence permeating the empty aisle. Youngjae unconsciously holds in a breath. He sees Daehyun's bare legs move slightly, before a reply arrives. "I'm busy."

The words are curt and sharp, slicing through Youngjae's throat like fresh shrapnel. It feels strangely pitiful, to have thrown away his pride and asked for help yet be rejected. _Fucking asshole_. "You just said you were free," Himchan snaps, evidently aware of Daehyun's true intendment.

"I don't feel up for it." Youngjae stomps back into his room, gathering his laptop and wallet and throwing on a coat. He stalks out of the door before Himchan can stop him.

"Youngjae! Don't-"

"I'll be _fine_ , hyung," Youngjae snarls, jaw locked. Himchan chases after him as Youngjae jabs the lift button incessantly. "Come on, Youngjae. Stop being like this. We'll fix your computer once we get back to your dorms."

The lift doors open. Youngjae ignores the boy in his peripheral vision, standing far away in the aisle, and glares at Himchan. "I don't need anyone to accompany me. I can do it by myself, hyung." The syllables are so scathing it burns his tongue. Youngjae doesn't look back as he shuts the door, Himchan's expression of consternation obscured.

It's cold. Youngjae winds up getting lost and spends five hours finding his way back, showing up drenched in the foreshadowed downpour. Their manager throws open the door, smacking him hard on the head. Youngjae stumbles back, vision steadying to find Yongguk sitting on his bed behind their manager.

"Are you a fucking idiot!? Do you know how late it is right now!?" Youngjae braces himself for the impending castigations, head lowered in apology. He doesn't regret purposely not bringing his phone, however. Yongguk successfully calms down their manager and coaxes him to go back to his room, assuring him he'll deal with the mess.

Yongguk stares at him sternly, eyes narrowed. "Himchan told me what happened. What were you trying to prove? That you'll be able to return, even if you lose your way?" Youngjae keeps mum. Yongguk goes into the bathroom and gets a towel, towelling Youngjae's hair dry.

"We were all really worried, Youngjae. Don't do it again, alright?" Yongguk rebukes, gently massaging Youngjae's shoulder and nudging him into the room. Youngjae stays motionless by the open door as Yongguk's footsteps ebb away. _Except for one of you._

Rapping of knuckles against mahogany wood sounds down the corridor, along with a metal click.

"I told you to turn in," Yongguk breathes. Youngjae tugs the towel off his head and drapes it around his neck. His laptop is still broken.

Whoever Yongguk's talking to doesn't answer. "He's back. You can go to sleep." Youngjae turns around and shuts the door.

He misses Daehyun's hushed grunt.

 

 

Youngjae dreams of the arcade Daehyun and him visited back during their trainee days, Daehyun's terribly cut bangs flopping against his forehead. It's a bit odd for them to be here when the place is filled with middle school students. Youngjae grips the steering wheel, kicking against the pedal when he ranks second in the racing game again. He frenziedly taps Daehyun's shoulder for an extra token and slots it in, starting up another round.

"Hey." Daehyun hums in response, uninterested in the arcade machine in front of him and facing Youngjae. The question tumbles out of Youngjae's mouth easily when he's distracted. "Do you think I'm stubborn?"

Daehyun snorts uncouthly, arm propped up against the controls with his cheek against his fist. "You've always been stubborn, Youngjae. Just like how I've always been sensitive. You get competitive when challenged; I get defensive when attacked."

Youngjae nods in agreement, prodding the buttons on the cabinet. "Should we do something about it?" He starts the game, putting Daehyun's words and his lingering feelings at second priority.

"I don't know. Do you want to do something about it?" Daehyun returns, still ignoring the flashing screen in front of him. Youngjae furrows his brows, slamming his foot onto the pedal and cursing as he makes a wrong turn.

"I guess. I'm tired of fighting," Youngjae manages to churn out as he navigates through the race track. He snickers when he overtakes and crashes the car in front of him. "But you started it, anyway. You should have let me in."

"Started? You don't see my hands on the controller. Wasn't playing a game, Youngjae." Youngjae's concentration breaks and he swerves the wrong way, wanting to look at Daehyun but unwilling to tear his gaze from the screen lest he loses.

"Why'd you leave, then?" Youngjae interrogates, pitch raised as he struggles to regain control of the game. Daehyun exasperatedly winds his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Youngjae. I don't know." His voice is awfully serious and almost concerned. "Youngjae, I'm not-"

"I know you don't know." Youngjae doesn't want to say _I know you're not real_ so he settles on saying just that. Daehyun huffs, crossing his legs. His ankle rests against his knee as he puts up his hands behind his head.

"Then why'd you ask?" Daehyun's question is hushed beneath Youngjae's dead-set focus. "I... I don't know," Youngjae mumbles, steering aggressively. "No guts to ask you out there, so I asked you here, I guess."

His peripheral vision notices his red shoes on Daehyun's feet. He opens his mouth to argue, but Daehyun beats him to it. "Rightfully mine," Daehyun supplies and pats his shoe after following Youngjae's brief glance. It's a bit dirty, but Daehyun doesn't seem to mind.

Youngjae scrunches up his nose, emitting a cute, high-pitched wail like that of a baby. He stops himself before he starts bubbling like a little girl who lost her candy, leaning back as the game glitches and pauses for a while. "You're acting weird," Daehyun remarks, the words quiet but serious. "You've been... doing these kind of things lately."

"I have, haven't I?" The game reboots, giving Youngjae a second chance but erasing all his previous progress. "I've been acting cute." He picks the same car. "People like me like this," Youngjae points out. With a gentle, meek face, the public expects just the same for his personality.

"You do it around the house too." The game loads slowly and Youngjae shrugs. "I can't differentiate between on-stage and off-stage anymore."

"Can I confess something?" The beat of Youngjae's frantic heart dies away in his ears and he feels terrible mangled. Crushed under a shattered windscreen without time to even let out a scream before he'd been ripped from his own hands. "I like it when you hold me on stage. Even if it's pretend."

Daehyun says nothing. Youngjae wants an apology, but even if Daehyun does say he's sorry, Youngjae knows it's only his memories begging for Daehyun to feel remorse over the boy who'd offered up his heart and trust by sitting with him in the passenger seat, and yet gotten cruelly abandoned with the pedal stuck on accelerate.

"What they say about us..." Youngjae starts, words coming out in a blurt as the game starts. It's pointless to say it here, but Youngjae still does. "...As a couple. You know it's not true, right? It's just something fans do. Just look at our seniors Eunhyuk-sunbaenim and Donghae-sunbaenim. They top official couple polls all the damn time and they're completely okay with it. They find laughter and happiness out of it. The fans shipping them together just shows how strong their friendship is."

Youngjae's grip tightens on the wheel and the screen buzzes. "Eunhyuk-sunbaenim has a girlfriend. They don't let themselves be affected by it because there's nothing to be upset about. It's all for fun; it's harmless. No one takes it seriously."

He meanders down the road, jaw locked. "Even Yongguk-hyung and Himchan-hyung are paired up. You don't see them complaining. Himchan-hyung finds it cute while Yongguk-hyung doesn't really pay attention. Honestly, don't you think you're overreacting?" Youngjae's reaching the finish line. He steps harder on the accelerator, eyes fixated on the black and white line. "It's not real, Daehyun."

"What if it is?" Daehyun's question is piercing. Youngjae freezes.  _Where did that come from?_

"What?" Youngjae swerves to avoid the random obstacle and crashes into a wall, humiliatingly in front of all the spectators with just inches left to the finish line. He turns to Daehyun, but by then, he's not there anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 **SCORE:**  40-LOVE

 

 

 

 

 

The drizzle outside creates an uneven rhythm against the window, leaving streaks down the glass. Youngjae lays in bed, the chilly sheets up to his collarbones. He flickers his eyelids, watching the transparent fluid draw trails as he waits.

_If I slept forever, would you be forever as well?_

He doesn't like waking up nowadays. The piercing sunlight cruelly demolishes his parcosm moulded after foggy memories and the debris left is that of eye crust and the taunting memory of Daehyun's touch. Then, he has to face Daehyun, a distorted version of him, and wait for night to come so he will revert back to his former self. All he has to do is disregard Daehyun's presence during the day, but it's much longer than the night.

Sleep is blissful, they say. You can sleep through any disaster and simply die without knowledge. Even while through the end of the world and the universe collapses into nothing but broken reality. Youngjae can't help but agree at this point. But an eternal slumber is equivalent to death, isn't it?

Footsteps shatter his train of thoughts into smithereens but Youngjae does not face the newcomer. "You've been turning in really early recently, hyung." Jongup settles down by his side, the mattress dipping. "You're usually such a night owl."

Youngjae hums. They wordlessly bask in each other's company, the other members out in the living room. Sometimes, Youngjae wishes they didn't care so much, because he hates knowing they're all shouldering a piece of his misery.

"Daehyun-hyung's been acting strange lately," Jongup says, tone mellow. Youngjae remains stationary. "I know."

"I wonder why?" Jongup mumbles, evidently trying to cajole a more elaborate response out of Youngjae. He receives nothing, so he sighs. "It's towards all of us, hyung. Not just you." The pads of Jongup's thumbs are tender, unlike Daehyun's. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

Youngjae nods, even though his heart screams out contradictory. Jongup squeezes Youngjae's arm and makes a quiet exit. Youngjae shuts his eyes, imprinting Daehyun's smile into the darkness.

"He's not supposed to, Jongup."  _It's selfish to say this, but especially not to me._

 

 

Youngjae dreams of a street, the downpour against an umbrella held in Daehyun's hand. The roads are peaceful, cars driving slowly past and the overcast afternoon sky a shade of light grey as though the sun refused to get wholly blocked out. The heat Daehyun emanates is intoxicating.

"I forgot the way back home," Youngjae confesses, staring down at Daehyun's feet and following his footsteps. He knows it is not true since they've walked to their dorms a million times and the route is sewed into their sinews, but somehow, he is lost and doesn't know where to go. Daehyun does not reply, instead digging through his pocket and slipping out a mouldy ticket. It's a KTX train ticket to Busan, long overdue. He hauls out several of them, all past their allocated dates and seemingly endless in numbers.

Youngjae looks at Daehyun. He smiles, the ends of his lips piercing up into his wrinkled cheeks and worn-out eyes. Daehyun chucks them into a nearby bin, them never stopping in their stroll.

"I'm sorry," Youngjae whispers, the tears welling up in his eyes. They sting hotly despite the cold atmosphere wrapped around their figures.  _I'm sorry I'm not there for you._

"Say that to me in reality," Daehyun nearly pleads, words hoarse and fragile. "...Don't you remember when I said you're my only home left?"

Youngjae knows he can't say it—his pride won't let him—though the agony claws at his chest and the burning need to hold Daehyun chokes him, so he keeps silent. He doesn't even know if Daehyun will let him in. His composure remains unbreakable as Daehyun and him walk through the storm, water pelting the umbrella and dripping off the ribs.

"Can I kiss you?" Youngjae's request is soft and nearly inaudible in the rain. "On the cheek." Daehyun chuckles and Youngjae feels the hair on Daehyun's arm brush against his skin. "Yes?" His words, clearly amused, has Youngjae putting his hand over Daehyun's wrist and stopping him in his stride. The sound of rain drowns out the thumping of his heart as his lips gently press against Daehyun's creased face. It's nothing more than a fast peck, but his lips still tingle.

They gaze at one another, not questioning the road ahead left to be covered and the faceless passers-by. They're just another two people on the road, drenched in the murky weather. Youngjae's- no, Daehyun's slippers on Youngjae's feet are clutching water, the wetness uncomfortable but tolerable.

"Can I kiss you too?" Daehyun's voice is deep, dropped down a pitch which he does when he's unsure but needs to answer, so he hopes no one can hear him lest he gets it wrong. Youngjae nods lightly and they make way for a passing bicycle, the rider throwing them a strange look. Youngjae's back nearly touches the wall, the doors to the convenience store just a few metres away.

Daehyun leans forward, steps uneasy, neck craned and movements choppy. Youngjae meets his gaze and averts it when they're too near to stare at one another without crossing eyes. Daehyun's breath tickles his skin and it feels intricately real for a dream.

Warm wetness meets his cheek, a side of Daehyun's mouth brushing Youngjae's lips. His breath catches in his throat and the world stops for a moment, just them existing in the small space of mystical intimacy. His touch lingers, peeling skin grazing against Youngjae's cheek.

Daehyun pulls away and breaks out into a smile, oddly conflicted in spite of the sincerity etched in his bared teeth. "I'm your new target now, aren't I? After Junhong." Youngjae bumps into Daehyun, making a face. He can still feel the moisture on his cheek.

"Hey, that's different. I kiss Junhong because he's cute," Youngjae elaborates. Daehyun hums, "And you're halfway to becoming a pedophile." Youngjae squawks, nudging Daehyun harder.

"What about me?" The space between them vanishes into nothingness, Daehyun's hoodie against Youngjae's cardigan. Youngjae mulls over it, his feet soaking in dirty puddles. He likes the feeling of Daehyun by his side and his snug presence.

"I don't know. Because I love you, I guess." Youngjae veers his head towards Daehyun but the boy disintegrates before he can say anything else. The rain beats down mercilessly on him and he's standing on the edge of some roof, a familiar warmth behind him. The world spins below him, nausea rocking him back and forth over the brink.

Someone kicks his back roughly and Youngjae tips over, falling fast. The building he'd been on is tall and the wind slices across his body as he tumbles face first. His heart rises to his throat and the cement floor below him comes closer, closer and-

The sickening crack of bones and shatter of cartilage resounds as he hits concrete, the excruciating pain embedding itself sharply into Youngjae's veins. Blood leaks out from underneath him, mingling inexorably with the rain drops negligent to his fragmented state. In that split second, Youngjae's eyes fall to a close—but not before he sees the two figures facing each another by the wall, one with red shoes and the other with slippers.

 

 

Youngjae awakes with a scream, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his chest rising and falling sharply. He desperately catches his breaths, pants erratic and off beat. He barely has time to process the hurried footsteps and arms around him, Himchan's soothing voice placating _it's okay, I'm here_ again and again. The lights flicker on and Yongguk enters, hurrying over to Youngjae's bed side. "What happened?

Junhong and Jongup come in tow, worry permeating their expressions. The fabric of reality sinks in rapidly and Youngjae sits upright, compressing the hysteria and terror loitering threateningly in the recesses of his sanity. "S-sorry. Nightmare," Youngjae says, tone dismissive and reassuring. Yongguk nods quietly, instructing Jongup to bring some water and Junhong to get some medicated oil.

The two youngest of the group obediently leave, Himchan stroking Youngjae's back. The feverishness in Youngjae alleviates but the fear still remains, trampling over his nerves. "I'm okay," Youngjae firmly states, more to assuage the concern blatantly shown by the other members. Flashes of his red shoes and Daehyun's slippers, the ones he often wear out to the convenience store because he doesn't really care about his dressing, resting in his blood scorch into his corneas and Youngjae shuts his eyes heavily.

"Hyung," Junhong pipes in, perturbed. "I can't find Daehyun-hyung." He meanders over to Youngjae, placing the ointment on the nightstand. Youngjae pries open his eyelids, his back slouched in fatigue. "He's not in his room?" Yongguk questions, brows knitting. He rises, briskwalking to Daehyun and Junhong's shared room.

The feeling of moisture finally seeps into Youngjae's brain, the boy wiping at his cheek. The remnants of saliva and dead skin sit on the back of his hand as Youngjae scrutinises the combination. It's cold; he hasn't drooled since elementary school. Himchan grimaces, flicking Youngjae on the arm. "Gross. You'll be slobbering puddles like Junhong, at this rate."

"...I'm sorry," Youngjae murmurs. As expected, Himchan merely chuckles. "You better be, disrupting my beauty sleep." He stands, pacing after Yongguk as they bring their discussion elsewhere. Youngjae looks over to the shoebox in the corner, containing the red shoes he'd never gotten around to giving Daehyun because their rift demolished the bridge between them.

_Where are you?_

Jongup arrives with a glass of warm water, handing it to Youngjae carefully. "Hyung, you're like a warning siren," Jongup jokes innocuously. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have known Daehyun-hyung disappeared." Youngjae laughs hollowly, reluctant anxiety pervading his senses. He hides his shivering fingers from Jongup's line of sight.

Himchan coaxes him to return to bed, adding that they've already contacted Daehyun even though Youngjae never specifically requested for that information. Himchan leaves Youngjae's door open in case the nightmare returns, switching the other lights off except for the living room one.

Daehyun returns about ten minutes later, Youngjae still trembling under his blanket. The front door clicks and Youngjae cracks an eye open, staring at darkness. 

"Daehyun," Yongguk sternly chides, disappointment biting at his syllables.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I couldn't sleep, so I went out to clear my mind."

Yongguk sighs. "You should have told us."

"I'm sorry. I was only out for a few minutes." 

A long pause.

"It's alright," Yongguk concedes. "Don't do it again, okay? Go get some rest."

"Hyung, you're so unlucky," Junhong sniggers. "You go out for a walk secretly and the entire house wakes up and finds out about it."

"What woke you guys up?" Youngjae swallows thickly, the echo of Daehyun's question reaching him. "Who," Himchan corrects, "Youngjae had a nightmare and screamed."

Silence. A suspenseful break in the chat. A reply comes, soft and weak. "...Is he okay?"

"Why not you go check for yourself?" Himchan's tone is casual, yet somewhat staunch. Quietness. The closure of a conversation and a signal for Youngjae to play dead. His eyelashes interlock and he forcefully contains his shuddering. The remainders of his dream haunts the back of his eyelids.

His door creaks shut and the apprehension doubles in Youngjae. Daehyun's footsteps are hushed, but still hearable. Heat materialises by his side, one too recognisable in the depths of his fantasies. Youngjae tries to keel over into a slumber that will take him away but he's always been sleeping with his eyes open.

Strong arms wind around his figure along with an almost muted breath. Youngjae tenses, the tremors wrecking his bloodstream multiplying tenfold. He's a dead giveaway.

Youngjae is hauled upwards into Daehyun's embrace. His ear squashes against Daehyun's chest, the palpitations of his heart ringing in his ears. He can't tell if it's him or Daehyun that's shaking.

" _Should auld acquaintance be forgot... and never brought to mind?_ "

Youngjae has heard Daehyun sing nearly every day of his life, from on the stage to outside the bathroom, but the tears still trickle down his face. He's heard Daehyun sing this song before; it's a traditional folk song used commonly for farewells. There was a time where he wouldn't stop singing it, exhilarated for the new year.

" _Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne._ "

Daehyun's humming is calming and velvety. Youngjae doesn't know what he's saying but he doesn't fight the water streaming down boldly, wetting Daehyun's shirt. It's lukewarm, like the thick lips his imagination had bestowed upon his cheek. Youngjae wonders if Daehyun's bidding goodbye to him for good.

" _For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne._ "

Youngjae wishes he could say all he did in his dream. But he can't, so he resorts to basking in Daehyun's long lost company and lets his tears flow. He wants to look up at Daehyun but he's afraid that if he does, Daehyun will vanish like in his moments of waking.

" _We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne._ "

Youngjae never opens his eyes.

 

 

 _If you love me let me go_  
‘Cause these words are knives and often leave scars  
The fear of falling apart  
And truth be told, I never was yours

 

 

**Player 1 wins!**

 

 


	13. you'll hide and i'll seek

 

 

**END GAME?**

**YES** /NO

 

Sorry, Player 1 has not left the game.

 

**END GAME?**

**YES** /NO

 

Sorry, Player 1 has not left the game.

 

**END GAME?**

**YES** /NO

 

Sorry, Player 1 will never leave the game.

 

**READY?**

YES/ **NO**

 

 

 

 

 

**ROUND 2**

_Server: Player 2_

 

 

_I've let you go, Daehyun. What more do you want?_

_I've already given up._

 

 

Busan has been demolished in the recesses of Youngjae's dreams. A part of him believes it's the same for Daehyun, and that perhaps he's fallen to smithereens precisely because he's trying to piece back the debris of his hometown -- while Youngjae stands watching as the whole place collapses. He'd tried to rescue him (lies), shove him out of the falling rubble's ways (lies) but Daehyun's touch had burned his palms and he'd realised too late that Daehyun was already up in flames. He'd caught a bit of the fire, the damage scorching his skin and leaving his hands red and sore.

Even children know not to touch a boiling kettle after being burnt once. But what do you do when it's the dead of winter and the wind grates at your skin mercilessly? He'd been clad by the coat woven from his teammates' encouraging words, but the sole source of warmth in the blizzard is too hot to touch. He'd rather freeze to death than be burnt alive.

It's becoming easier to pretend Daehyun doesn't exist. Daehyun's doing his part well and there's no more desperation to feel Daehyun's smile against his skin. Himchan seems to be helping; something had clearly happened after that day Youngjae disappeared. Himchan stands in the way when Daehyun's laughing at Yongguk's pretty, dainty fingers and Yongguk's blushing hard, when Daehyun's patting Jongup on the head for getting him snacks, when Daehyun's cheering at Junhong having helped him beat a level on their gaming console.

Himchan is the man accompanying him voluntarily in the snow storm, arms insufficiently wrapped around Youngjae's shivering form. He veers Youngjae away from the sight of charcoal and fire, reminding him it's just a sick mirage of nothingness.

Sometimes, in Youngjae's dream, he sees a shadow. But he turns away before the figure comes close enough.

Jaebum calls him one day. Youngjae admits he wishes he'd never quit JYP. Jaebum says it's okay and they're still friends beyond the whole structure of the band. That no, it's not the fact that they're in this rigid set-up that their friendship is validated. That yes, their friendship exceeds being in the same company and it's the same on the flip side of the coin -- some people do it as a job and there is no brotherly bond. Youngjae can ascertain that.

Himchan hears his confession. They sleep in the same bed that night, and in between the moments of dreaming and waking (Himchan's endless rambles his new lullaby), he hears Daehyun ask Himchan why.

Yongguk makes it clear their band will last much longer than two years and their current group dynamics will not help them fulfill that. Youngjae sends Himchan a pleading look but he says nothing. Thus, Daehyun and Youngjae are forced to room together for their new tour.

It's akin to living alone. Just believe Daehyun's part of the walls and he's another figment of Youngjae's imagination where in his peripheral view, he sees something moving but it's really nothing.

Youngjae sometimes wonders if they're stuck in the same memory. Of intertwined limbs incapable of being untangled, sunny days where they'd fall asleep by accident in one another's arms against the couch, Youngjae's laugh still frozen against Daehyun's shoulder. He wonders if Daehyun will stand and stare, and then pry them apart so even their intimate moments don't last in history.

It's Youngjae's birthday. All of them, except for Daehyun, are gathered in Yongguk and Himchan's hotel room. Yongguk proclaims he'll buy as much soju as possible and Himchan promises an ice cream cake. Jongup gets him a pair of headphones and Junhong a pair of shoes. No one really talks about how Daehyun's not feeling well, today of all days, and is cooped up in his room.

"Yes!" Junhong shrills loudly, rolling around on the bed. "Soju. I want soju."

"You're not legal, stupid," Himchan scolds, stepping on Junhong's stomach. "Honestly, it's not even that good. It's only attractive to you because it's technically forbidden." Junhong secretly flips Himchan the finger and Jongup bounces around the room.

"They're even more excited than you are," Yongguk remarks with a laugh. Youngjae looks up from his iPad and snickers at the two youngest. "I'm not even sure if it's my birthday celebration or theirs."

"Hey," their manager pops his head into the room. "Come on, the staff are waiting downstairs. We can't eat unless the birthday boy has arrived."

Youngjae salutes, the team cheering as they file out. Youngjae pats his pockets to find them empty. "Hyung," he mutters, Yongguk turning back, "I left my phone in the bedroom. I'll meet you guys downstairs."

"Alright, be quick!" Yongguk chimes and they disappear down the hallway. Youngjae jogs back to his room, half praying Daehyun's showering so he won't have to meet him.

He's not in the room. Youngjae walks to his desk, scavenging for his phone when he sees a torn piece of paper on the table, along with a green tea popsicle from the vending machine.  _Happy birthday_.

Youngjae's heart misses a beat. He claws the flimsy notebook paper off the table, scrutinising the words. Below it is some kind of comic; Daehyun went through a drawing phase before their debut.

The first row is of a man walking into a spectacles shop with a male friend and picking out a pair of glasses. They're red, as compared to the rest of the black and white comic. The man tries them on and the box showcasing his view is red and his friend in front of him is now a pretty girl. He takes off the glasses to find the optometrist frowning at him.

The man returns the spectacles and leaves. The last row is blurred out due to the condensation from the popsicle, like it'd been intentionally soaked. Youngjae can still make out the lines to be that of various sceneries, the man's friend standing in every window. Some supposedly with long hair, others short.

There's nothing else. The contrast of green and red is unnerving. Youngjae glares at the card and decides trying to decipher it isn't worth his time. He grabs the popsicle and his phone and sprints out of the room, his mind still unwilling to let go of what he'd seen.  _Was it meant to be funny? Maybe I'd missed something._

His heart is still beating at a furious pace. Youngjae reminds himself of having let go of smouldering firewood and swallows down the lump in his throat. The evening goes well, vibrant yells and hearty congratulations brimming at his ears. He drinks more than he should despite Yongguk warning him not to, and he thinks Himchan says something like forgetting isn't an excuse to get alcohol poisoning.

"Oh god, I need a break," Youngjae wheezes to Jongup as he stumbles towards the bathroom. Junhong laughs at him and steals his cup of beer. He disappears into the bathroom by the corridor and emerges more dazed than ever, the alcohol shooting up through his nerves and rendering his mind a mess of red. The green tea ice cream stick is still in his pocket, washed because Youngjae doesn't have the heart to throw out the last remnant of Daehyun's crappy gift.

 _Daehyun_ , Youngjae thinks and stumbles into the lift. He manages to prod the right button and taps out the rhythm to their debut song. Youngjae lunges out the moment the elevator pings, floundering towards their room. He can't think straight, so he lurches for the only thing (in)comprehensible during his moments of (in)sanity.

He knocks on the door once. Then twice. Then incessantly, without stop. The door swings open and Youngjae nearly falls forward, managing to catch himself on the door frame. Daehyun is wearing a faded t-shirt and a pair of track pants. His eyes are wide, like the times where his and Youngjae's favourite soccer team manages to score a goal.

"You're looking terribly sick," Youngjae sarcastically bites and Daehyun's face melts back into a scowl. "What are you doing? It's only ten."

"I should be asking you that, shouldn't I?" Youngjae spits, shutting his eyes to steady his groggy mind and the ground below him collapsing into nothing. Daehyun is stirring up something heinous in his gut. Youngjae can identify one part of the concoction to be rage but the other is a burning thirst, for what, he isn't sure. "Where are you? What are you doing, Jung Daehyun?" He mockingly sings, one of the tracks their company had queued for them to release mid-year. Youngjae doesn't know if he can last that long.

Youngjae shoves Daehyun aside and barges in, his hand charring the moment their skins meet. "Can't even show your damn face, huh? What are you busy with?" Youngjae sneers, looking around in feigned curiosity just to spite Daehyun.

"You're drunk." Youngjae spins around at these words, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. Daehyun stares back nonchalantly. "Go to bed."

Youngjae staggers over like leaping over rocks in a high tide river, attempting to get to the other side. Daehyun's eyes enlarge and he steps back, the agony cutting through Youngjae's throat and halting his feverish breath.

"Stop," he whispers before he can stop himself. His tone drips of revulsion and desolation like the remaining alcohol on his tongue. "Stop looking at me like that." Daehyun visibly gulps and Youngjae envisions himself missing a stepping stone, slipping down into the river and drowning as the water consumes him. Youngjae decides if he's going to go down, he'll have to rightfully bring Daehyun along with him.

Youngjae grabs on to Daehyun's collar, hauling him towards him feebly. He raises his voice even though his mind screams at him not to let a word slip, else he'll end up like the pitiful boy a few weeks ago who'd gotten abandoned and lost in a foreign town. "Stop looking so tensed like I'd  _break_  you if I came any closer," he seethes, grasp on Daehyun's shirt shaky. Their eyes are latched onto one another and Youngjae admires how familiar Daehyun looks without his stupid chunks of eyeliner. Perhaps without them clogging up his eyes, would Daehyun be able to recognise him again?

"I'm not a monster," Youngjae breathes falteringly, "I'm not diseased." He loosens his grip, sinking back into his slouch as the tears prick him as punishment. He'd lost the game, but he truly never wanted to play in the first place. "I'm your friend."

Daehyun stares at him wordlessly, torn lips parted. Ever since he'd started his diet, his face has been cleared of his unrelenting acne. Youngjae misses it. His pride cracks like weightless paper mache built in the shape of a fortress that never was.

Himchan isn't here to wipe away his tears, so he helplessly lets them roll down his cheeks. "Say something," Youngjae begs, the tears scarring his face as visible proof for the damage Daehyun has inflicted. The make-up had been used to cover up his wounds because the goal was always to show he wasn't hurt to ward off the futile attacks, but Youngjae's okay with baring his victimised, battered state if Daehyun mercifully retracts his knife.

"Please." Youngjae lowers his head, his pitch cracking and the suppressed cries wrecking his lungs. _I miss you. I need you. I love you._

Daehyun's eyes are welled up with tears. His lips are pressed together but he never breaks off their stare, reaching out his hands and placing them on Youngjae's stained cheeks. His rough thumbs wipe away the persistent wet warmth and he exhales just barely. It's too familiar. Youngjae needs more of it.

"You're my friend," Daehyun weakly whispers, his own tears streaking down his face, "and that's precisely why you're breaking me."

No time to think. Fast beats like their powerful come back songs, their feet stomping against the stage. Crash like two cars barelling down the roads with suicide in aim. Daehyun's lips are on his and Youngjae chokes back a sob, their mouths moulding like a combustion between two scathing acids. Youngjae's back hits the wall and Daehyun presses his thigh into Youngjae's crotch. Youngjae's chokehold around his lips slip and Daehyun's tongue dives in, their breaths intermingling ravenously.

Daehyun's yearning is so stark Youngjae is caught by surprise. Daehyun's hands are shivering like he's on a high gotten from a forbidden fruit and Youngjae melts into Daehyun's grasp, eyes falling to a close as he savours their close proximity. He misses this. They're not supposed to be doing  _this_ , but he misses this. He misses being able to touch Daehyun and somehow the alcohol has clouded all logic and unlocked the floodgates of a desire to be one with Daehyun again, and thus the willingness to settle for anything, at this point.

Like a starved addict going into a relapse after being kept away for centuries, Youngjae winds his arms around Daehyun and pulls them impossibly closer, chests colliding as their lip lock breaks. He doesn't know what the fuck is going on. Daehyun's mouth finds its way to Youngjae's neck, sucking hard. Youngjae breathes in deep to relish in Daehyun's missed scent, the triggers in his body all setting off simultaneously.

Daehyun pushes him onto the bed and it's not even a split second before he clambers over him, resuming their contact. Youngjae arches against Daehyun's mind-numbing hold, their hips gyrating against one another. Youngjae's skin is ablaze and he wants to fit their contours for the rest of eternity so they'll never again be the pair of tragic, separated soulmates they were for the past months. A morbid rendition of Romeo and Juliet because the demons from within kept them apart. He doesn't know what Daehyun's were, but his were purely born out of spite.

Daehyun removes their garments, Youngjae's delirious hands roaming up Daehyun's toned chest. Their members press against one another and Youngjae emits a lewd whimper, Daehyun swallowing it up with another kiss. Daehyun is attractive, _very_ attractive. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe they've been apart for so long the absence has toppled his heart over the cliff of fondness to an abyss of crazed, insatiable desire and longing.

Daehyun licks a long path down Youngjae's torso, suckling on the sensitive skin surrounding Youngjae's hips. His tongue grazes Youngjae's tip and Youngjae twitches, his senses dissolving into incomprehsible rationale as Daehyun takes in Youngjae fully. The boy writhes beneath him, bucking greedily into Daehyun's hot cavern as the pleasure bashes through his fucked up arguments of  _we're goddamn guys_.

Youngjae tugs Daehyun up and kisses him hard, teeth clacking and tongues battling for dominance. The feeling of Daehyun's chapped lips are a one-way ticket to delirium and he makes sure to explore Daehyun's skin, earning him a feverish groan.  _It's a make-up for what we've missed_ , Youngjae placates the wrought misgivings pleading for him to stop. He can't get enough of Daehyun.

He misses Daehyun so fucking much.

Daehyun grapples for their lip balm, smearing a chunk onto his shaft and inserting a finger into Youngjae's hole. The boy nearly shoots upright but the alcohol sits down on him, along with the spinning conclusions. It'd been a performance at first. Him as Daehyun's affectionately dubious partner to make the fans go wild (how cute!) and open up a new path to gaining more fans. It'd been an arrangement. It's not meant to be real. No one takes it seriously. Only Daehyun thought it was real.

Only  _Daehyun_  thought it was real.

Daehyun's digits hit somewhere in Youngjae's hole that sends him into a crack of pure bliss, Youngjae choking on his moan and scratching at the sheets. Daehyun climbs over him, lifting up his legs and pressing him into the headboard. With a sharp kiss, Daehyun slowly slides into Youngjae, the other boy embedding his nails into Daehyun's back. The pain throbs in his behind but the moment he looks up at Daehyun, the world dissolves into red.

When Youngjae's grip slackens, Daehyun begins to move, thrusts slow and gentle. Youngjae throws his head back as Daehyun's length hits his prostate, the ecstasy swelling tenfold. Their lips interlock, hands voraciously finding one another and grabbing at all the skin they can. Daehyun pounds in, their whimpers weaving a cacophony to others but a sickeningly sweet symphony to them. Youngjae's shaft rubs against Daehyun's stomach and he grips Daehyun's hair aggressively.

Daehyun brings the stars down into Youngjae's eyes as the bliss builds up in him. He holds on to him for dear life, clawing at one another as Youngjae is thrown repeatedly into the headboard. He's scared if he lets go, Daehyun will leave like in his moments of waking. He pulls Daehyun down for a kiss as he releases, white spilling and a warm liquid filling up his hole.

Daehyun collapses onto the bed with heavy pants and his cheek automatically finds Youngjae's collarbone. Youngjae wonders if he can pretend this is all just a dream and he'll wake up tomorrow with Daehyun gone like sand trailing from his fingers. There's no space to think of what's right and what's wrong, not when they're this close.

 

 

 

 

 

**BOTH PLAYERS HAVE LOST THE GAME**

**WHAT WILL BE YOUR FORFEIT?**

 

 

 

 

 

It was never us against each other, was it, Daehyun? This cat-and-mouse game, trying to pinpoint a loser... It was always us against them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm sorry, Youngjae. I'm so sorry. I had no idea.

_Oh, but you were the one who pushed him, weren't you? Now little Youngjae has broken his crown._

I thought he would fall into the mud!

_Silly child. The mud was just the surface. Not only did you humiliate little Youngjae, his pretty white clothes all soiled, but you crippled him as well. While you're at it, why not pick up his fallen teeth? Give them to the tooth fairy and make a wish to turn back the time._

_Because there's no way else you two will ever heal._

 

 

 

 

 

It's raining (bleeding); it's pouring (bleeding).  
The two men are snoring.  
They went to bed and knocked their heads,  
And couldn't get up in the morning.

 


	14. bloodshed, internal strifes (to the asylum, veteran!)

 

There's blood everywhere. Bombs blasting, missiles launching, merciless commands reaching Youngjae's ears as he runs. He runs, sinews aching painfully and cowering whenever a deafening explosion sets off near him. The debris flies at his face, shrapnel slicing through his skin, and Youngjae runs while the fear brims in his throat.

The world is in black and white. He nearly slips in black goo, a battered, dismembered arm by some cargo boxes. Youngjae holds in the urge to puke and shudders, sprinting as hard as he can. A soldier yells out in an incomprehensible language and Youngjae hurls himself forward into a small warehouse. He pushes aside the many shipments, scouring deliriously.

"Daehyun," Youngjae breathes, knocking away a container. He hears a surprised grunt and his eyes widen in relief, lunging towards the source. Daehyun stands in his grey uniform, his tanned face with blood splattered against it. His jaw slackens upon seeing Youngjae and the latter dashes up to him, the only coloured thing in his vision. Daehyun's helmet is tight on his head, masking a bit of his eyebrows and the streak of crimson between them. He's much older, almost thirty with his wrinkles along his jawline and defined eye bags. His eyes are swollen and his lips are bleeding, filth smeared across his cheeks. Youngjae cringes in agony, reaching out to hold Daehyun's face. He wonders if it's the make-up that has sliced through his skin and drawn on his wounds.

Daehyun shifts the rifle against his back, face melting into pure rage and panic. "Oh my god, Youngjae, what the fuck are you doing here?" He hisses, grabbing Youngjae and yanking him to crouch when an eruption of bullets pierce through the windows. "I told you to leave!" Daehyun booms, hysterical gaze darting from one eye to another. Youngjae looks up at him, forlorn.

"I- I didn't want to leave you alone-"

"Are you fucking insane!?" Daehyun nearly shrieks, Youngjae flinching at his sharp tone. "We're in a war zone, Youngjae! It's not the goddamn sunny town we played tic-tac-toe in! I don't want you to  _die_!" He tugs Youngjae into his hold, protecting him from the showering glass smithereens. All that's left of his right hand is three fingers, the rest bloody stumps. There's a patch of maroon seeping through his uniform.

"Don't you see what's out there?" Daehyun frantically yells, grip digging into Youngjae's shoulders. Persecuted souls, flesh torn from their limbs for a difference too ghastly for others to acknowledge. Demand for a wipe-out across the district, no one to be spared. Martyrs hung from the ceilings as warnings. "Any minute they're gonna fucking storm in and  _kill_ us!"

"I won't let you die like this," Daehyun seethes, the echo of shrieks banging at the metal shutters. A gunshot reverberates through the space, Daehyun hugging Youngjae tighter. "No one has seen you yet, so we'll just pretend you're not one of us, okay?" Daehyun's hands are shaking as he caresses Youngjae's face, dirt trailing along. He stashes a shabby map into Youngjae's hand, hauling him up and leading him to the exit. He presses himself against the wall, glancing out cautiously to check for enemies.

"Say you're a foreigner. A tourist. They'll let you off with a warning," Daehyun instructs, unlatching his helmet and fitting it onto Youngjae's small head. It droops and Daehyun hastily buckles it, getting blood onto Youngjae's chin. "But what about you-"

"I can make it out alone, just go!" Daehyun booms, shoving Youngjae towards the door. He adamantly holds on to Daehyun's hand, clawing him down as someone excruciatingly near shouts out orders. Their trembling breaths intertwine as Youngjae keeps his grip firm, locking eyes with Daehyun. "Please, Daehyun," he whispers, heart scrunching up as Daehyun grimaces in absolute torment. "I've already come all the way. Let me stay," Youngjae pleads, meshing their fingers. "I don't want to leave you."

"We can't build a home out of a battlefield, Youngjae," Daehyun wheezes, adam's apple bobbing up and down as he takes in Youngjae's features. The patter of feet resounds past them as Daehyun's eyes begin to water. "I don't want you to get hurt. Please. Just go."

"Daehyun," Youngjae says gently, weaving a hand through Daehyun's musty, sweaty hair and pulling him into his embrace. "It's fine." He strokes Daehyun's head as Daehyun grits his teeth, tears streaking down his face. The warfare outside rattles the ground menacingly. "I'm fine," Youngjae whispers. Daehyun crumbles against his grasp, frustrated breaths churning through his locked jaw.

"I'm scared," Daehyun rasps, bitter tears dripping from his scratched jaw. Youngjae clutches onto him, releasing a frail breath. "We'll be okay, Daehyun."

"We'll be okay."

 

 

 

 

 

Oh Sandman, oh Sandman, what in the world have you done?  
_Your wish! I turned back time a ton._  
_Gave the boy of your dreams, your sun._  
_The great Jung Daehyun, second to none._  
No, no, I meant back to square one!  
As friends! You've overdone!  
_But Youngjae, my silly son,_  
_The boy who takes my sand to run,_  
_Begging to bring to life the tales he spun._  
_Square one means strangers again, redone._  
_Well, I do wonder when they'll start to shun._  
_My goodness, dear, don't touch that gun._  
_Oh Youngjae, how ever will you keep your wits about this one?_

 

 

 

 

 

Youngjae cracks open his eyes, sunlight streaming into the room as his memories sink in. His breath hitches and he sits up, a sharp pain piercing through his behind. He's fully clothed, the sheets fresh without a trace of last night's concocted happenings. Daehyun's not in his bed.

Youngjae holds his head, headache dawning, and stumbles off. Inspecting his bed with a confounded gaze, he wills his pounding heart to calm down, a disturbing sense of relief sitting on his shoulders.  _It never happened._ Youngjae's bed is clean and Daehyun's strong scent isn't weaved into the mattress. The shadow of a strange sensation bristles the hair on his arms, imaginary touch too familiar against his throbbing nerves.  _It never happened_ , Youngjae chants like a mantra as he walks to the bathroom, boring his eyes through his reflection. His lips are swollen and his lower half is sore and uncomfortable. Youngjae's grasp on the sink slips and his breathing turns uneven.

"It never happened," Youngjae quivers to himself, gulping thickly and stepping into the bathtub. Something cold trails from his behind and he hurriedly turns on the shower, washing away the white slipping from his hole. The tremors run free and Youngjae collapses onto the porcelain white, water pelting him and decisively removing all residue of an agonising dream to reveal a terrifying reality. Like the dismantling of curtains to show it was never a set. Youngjae hugs himself tight, rocking back and forth with chattering teeth. His fingers feel oddly like Daehyun's rough thumbs.

_It never happened._

 

 

 

 

 

Insanity...

is relative. 

IT DEPENDS ON WHO WHO WHO WHO

WHO WHO WHO WHO WHO WHO WHO

has who

who who

who _who_  

locked in

what cage.

 

 

 

 

 

The floor crumbles with every step. Youngjae has laid in bed for the past three hours with his eyes open, afraid to close them and subsequently facing the young Daehyun in his dreams. The one he calls out because he misses their loving friendship and camaraderie between two boys to be each other's best man and drinking buddy. The one not distorted, the one with his cheeky grins and dirty jokes (magazines of provocatively dressed women tucked underneath his cupboard). His arms are shivering and the numbness eases his mind into facing away from the piercing regret and inability to undo.

The other members will be worried if he doesn't get his lunch. They'll notice something's amiss, which is why Youngjae is wobbling down the hallway. He feels bare, the closed doors along the aisle mockingly laughing as he fears knocking on any one of them. Nowhere to turn so he'll have to stitch his lips up and bear the consequences.

"I want to change rooms." Youngjae freezes at the voice, senses breaking out of their chilled state and smashing into overdrive. His breathing quickens and his hazy eyes dart around, relentless recollections puncturing his lungs. The feel of Daehyun's lips against his is torturous.

"Daehyun, you're being ridiculous-"

" _I want to change rooms_ ," Daehyun seethes, tone sharp and demanding. "You guys fought last night, didn't you?" Yongguk sighs lengthily. "We should have gone in to check on them yesterday, Himchan."

"I thought he would at least be nicer to Youngjae on his birthday," Himchan snaps, irritation clear. "You know, being _best friends_ and all." His sarcasm loiters heavily in the air, a strong jab carved from exasperation and the need to protect Youngjae.

"I'll swap with Junhong," Daehyun persists, Youngjae standing dumbly at the doorway out of sight. He feels weightless but the pain inside his behind reminds him of being filled up, Daehyun's saliva slipping down his chin. His blood turns cold.

"Daehyun, stop being childish. This has gone on long enough. If you could at least tell us what you're going through-"

" _There's nothing wrong with me!_ " Daehyun raises his voice to a scream, the whole room going silent. "Just- just let me room with someone else. Please, hyung. You don't understand." His voice is hauntingly reminiscent of Youngjae's nightmare, their finger grappling on to one another. Blood making their grasp slip, wounds stinging and shards of broken bones poking out their flesh.

"Daehyun, we're here for you." Yongguk speaks like a caring mother to her first son. "You can't keep doing this."

"I need to room with someone else," Daehyun begs, syllables crumbling at the end of his speech like a roof in shambles. "I need to. Please."

"I can't let you, Daehyun," Yongguk whispers gently. "I've already let you so many times. What about Youngjae?"

Youngjae snaps his head up, limping into the room. Daehyun widens his eyes like a comical cartoon character, those they laugh at while they're wrapped up in blankets in the living room. It's funny, so funny that Youngjae wants to vomit.

"No, I want to change rooms too," Youngjae implores in distraught, Himchan whirring his stare in concern. Flashes of Daehyun's hair against him, their crotches grazing and the undeniable pleasure hangs Youngjae like a noose stealing his breaths. "Hyung," Youngjae whimpers, agonised eyes igniting bewilderment and misery in the two older members. "Please."

Daehyun backs away subtly, lips parted and swallowing stiffly. Even from here, Youngjae can tell he's paralysed, desperate for an escape. Himchan's expression softens and Youngjae seizes the chance to pull him out of the room. Himchan obediently follows as Youngjae tugs him into the stairway, the door swinging shut behind them as he pleadingly grabs on to Himchan's wrists. "Please, hyung. I can't be with him." Even touching Himchan, their distance barely intimate, swirls the choking remnants of yesterday down his throat. He flinches when Himchan strokes his face and hates himself for mangling his intentions.

"It's manager's orders," Himchan croaks, unwilling to play the bad guy and put his junior through so much pain. "You know you can't avoid him forever." Youngjae's clutch on Himchan tightens and he doesn't try to silence himself, churning out a broken wail as Himchan hurriedly embraces him. Fast, before Youngjae shatters amid the steps like pitiful litter to be stepped on.

Youngjae wishes Himchan had been faster, because he's already battered and dead against the parapet wall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

LUNACY MENTAL IRRATIONALITY DELIRIUM DELUSION DERANGEMENT HALLUCINATION   
!!!! ILLUSION SENSELESSNESS MANIA  **DAEHYUN**  FRENZY PSYCHOPATHY CRAZINESS !!!! DEMENTIA ABSURDITY HYSTERIA MADNESS PREPOSTEROUSNESS BIZARRE INSANITY

 

 

 

 

 

Daehyun disappears for the rest of the day, leaving Youngjae alone in the room. Youngjae opens one of Yongguk's books, The Catcher in the Rye, and flips to a random page. He stares at it for several hours, thoughts eating him from the inside out. He stops halfway only to pick up Daehyun's drawing and clip it in between, his glasses sliding down his nose bridge.

He can't think. The isolation is suffocating but even Himchan's embrace isn't enough to dissolve the (welcoming) acid sitting on his skin. His position on the bed digs out heinously Daehyun's face above his, pespiration trailing down his jaw and dazed eyes locked with his. He wants to scream but he doesn't know what to say. Phrase it into a coherent plea for help without Himchan gawking in irksome disbelief and wordlessness. Trapped in a cage like a magic trick gone wrong with his tongue ripped out, shame pervading his senses as passers-by sympathetically rattle the lock and asks if he knows where the key is.

Youngjae's listlessness nearly engulfs him when the door clicks open, the weak glow of his bedside lamp lighting part of the corridor. Youngjae remains unfeeling though he forgets how to inhale and there's an earthquake rumbling beneath him, threatening to swallow him into the depths of insanity. It's midnight. He'd stayed up in worry of Daehyun not returning permenantly. Chased away by their mistake they'll never be able to rub out no matter how many erasers they scavenge for (the country rubbers where they would, like elementary school kids, dig through and cheer when they find South Korea).

Daehyun walks in, freezing upon seeing Youngjae awake. It had evidently been unexpected from the deadly silence and only Youngjae's night light on. Their gazes fall upon one another, undecipherable and mangling, before Daehyun lowers his head and walks to the bathroom. Youngjae closes his book and switches off his lamp, turning the other way and ensconcing himself within the sheets. Daehyun emerges after a long while, scent of spice permeating the atmosphere. He clambers into bed quietly, presence almost a figment of Youngjae's imagination.

The cover of darkness gives rise to Youngjae's demons and confounding sins. Within, he searches for Daehyun's innocent, bright smile but finds nothing but chapped lips spitting out unfelt lyrics. He thinks of the warfare tapping on his shoulder, requesting for his return to the game, and Daehyun's spilt blood scorching his eyes. Someone holds a rifle to his head.

Youngjae snaps his eyes open, laying motionless. He shudders and thinks of Daehyun's hold and the farewells of old aquaintances. He removes the cover over his face and sits up. He's still scared of the dark.

Youngjae clambers out of bed and silently climbs into Daehyun's, the boy instantly waking from his slumber and staring down with disconcerted eyes, along with onsetting alarm and distress. Youngjae misses Daehyun's warmth dearly, so dearly he'd rip himself apart and attach them to Daehyun so they'd fuse into the same being.

"W-What are you-"

Youngjae shuts his eyes, resting against Daehyun's chest and releasing a splintered breath. He allows the dam he'd constructed from nothing but his begrudging muteness to shatter, tears leaking despite his face remaining stoic. _So cold_.  _So afraid._ He doesn't know where or who to turn to, so he grips on to his accomplice and seeps away into ebony.

Daehyun exhales, hands uncertainly hovering above Youngjae. He's treating Youngjae like fine china, a forbidden, prized possession that may crack anytime he'd lay his hands on him. Youngjae wants to tell him he's already wrecked so he doesn't have to worry; he can't be demolished any further.

Daehyun finally heaves Youngjae towards him, shaky grip a runny mixture of castigations-induced fear and a raging longing excruciatingly suppressed. He takes in a deep breath, lips against Youngjae's hair. "I'm sorry," he whispers, smothered against remorse and damned unrestraint as though he'd been dangled above temptations in the pit of fire for eternity. "I'm so sorry."

The wet warmth slashing down Youngjae's face flows more vigorously, his stiff lips breaking their still form only to respire. "What do we do?" He asks, fatigue ridden in his words.

"I don't know," Daehyun returns after a pregnant pause. Youngjae fists Daehyun's shirt, eyes twitching at their soreness. He diffuses in Daehyun's heat, steadfast clasp a fraud for Youngjae to shelve his misgivings and bask in the presence of a boy who'd been so far out of reach. Of a boy he'd loved as a close friend, of a friendship now twisted, misconstrued and deformed.

"I missed you," Youngjae cracks, shutting his eyes tight. Daehyun falteringly tangles their legs together, his thigh slipping between Youngjae's limbs. It reminds Youngjae of their debut days. Except then, he hadn't wanted to kiss Daehyun and feel Daehyun so deep inside him Daehyun penetrates into his bloodstream.

"I missed you too," Daehyun wheezes. His hands are shuddering like he's having a seizure from grasping a hallucination and Youngjae realises how beautiful he looks. Taboo desire showing its face in the form of condemned bliss, charges of unnatural blasphemy and a hint of love. The first signs of madness and a write-off to a mental asylum.

"So much." Perhaps Daehyun had always been spiralling down into the abyss of delirium. His clutch is warm and secure despite his stark unstability, and Youngjae thinks maybe if they died right now, their bones buried together (ribcages intertwined), it would be okay.

Daehyun kisses him on the forehead, released pant like he'd just been flung out of water into the air. Youngjae wonders if Daehyun had been drowning under a frozen lake while Youngjae fought the fire (stinging hurt).

"So, so much."

 

 

 

 

 

There

is 

always 

some

**MADNESS**

in

_love_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First quote by Ray Bradbury -- "Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.", second quote by Friedrich Nietzsche -- "There is always some madness in love". Bradbury's quote is reference to the title of the first chapter, "the eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages" (quote by Virginia Woolf). Does the poem appear in the shape of an hourglass? I'm not sure if it works on the other browsers lol. Doesn't work on mobile I think. dun dun dun


	15. we'll hide and they'll seek

 

  

 

 

 

 

**The End of Dusk**

(dear morning, spare us)

 

 

 

 

 

The urge to avoid is now mutual, unlike Youngjae's innate fervor to beat Daehyun at a game Daehyun could not explain was a war. Like a little boy Youngjae had been, peering up curiously as Daehyun hastily deluded him into thinking it was child's play despite the minefield that was his mind. It was all the better when Daehyun ran and Youngjae mistook it for a contest where he had to run too, in the opposite direction because Daehyun kept running despite Youngjae's screams for him to come back.

Ten paces and turn. The hilarious comedies where the cowboys, with their backs turned, keep going till they're miles and miles apart. If Youngjae had decided to cheat and take a peek at Daehyun in their duel to the death, he would have realised Daehyun had the pistol pressed to his very own forehead. But that wouldn't be Youngjae, as Youngjae's too proud to dispel the dire need to prove he's capable of winning fair and square with just his own abilities, despite being pushed to the brink of death.

Sometimes, Youngjae wonders how pathetic had he been to resort to conjuring up illusions just to see the boy who was right in front of him. He'd tried to sleep through the apocalypse of his soundness, bury himself alive, but he'd tried time and time to open the casket because he wanted to see Daehyun one last time -- even though Daehyun was the one who cremated him.

What Youngjae never realised that ironically, they'd both dug each other's graves, and he doesn't know if it's fortunate they found one another's hands within the soil and muddy roots. After all, the weight of the world is suffocating on their embrace and the paparazzi waits around the cemetery for the undead -- to rip them out of the earth and hang them rightfully in a shameful scandal. How long can they play dead till the bears leave?

Hopefully, Mother Nature is forgiving and will allow the natural turned otherwise to decompose in peace.

There is no more hate and irascibility. Daehyun and Youngjae sit at the opposite ends of the couch at home and they stand at different wings during concerts. Youngjae dodges Daehyun during their dances so they won't even graze one another and he showers last so he doesn't have to face Daehyun. Their manager singles them out and yells at them. Youngjae forgets how to speak as his head lolls about like a tattered, scrap doll and he nods.

The fear tingles his skin. Do they know? Can they smell out the unnatural on Daehyun and Youngjae? Are their gazes too affectionate and drowning?

Youngjae doesn't bother to steal glances at Daehyun like he used to, the ones he so vehemently denied as Daehyun joked with another who should rightfully be Youngjae. Nowadays, Youngjae finally understands the look in Daehyun's fatigued eyes, because his irises mirror them. He wants to say sorry for pushing Daehyun over the edge. If Youngjae had kept his damn mouth shut and continued their seemingly petty fight, they could still be hurting in a less reprehensible manner.

It's just a phase. Youngjae just needs to keep telling himself that and extricate his thoughts of Daehyun's breath on his hipbone.

Youngjae says sorry a lot these days. He considers quitting B.A.P and begging his ex-girlfriend to take him back before he drags the rest down to hell. Truthfully, he doesn't mind tying the vines around his neck so the budding tree above, five boys filled with brimming talent and enthusiastic dreams, can flourish from his corpse. Especially for one boy who people thought fought with Youngjae for a place in the garden (his replacement, because he couldn't sprout tall enough, hit those high notes) but had actually intertwined their arms to grow together.

He'd give up the last of his oxygen in his lungs so Daehyun can crawl out of the graveyard and mourn over the death of a boy nothing more than his best friend, as carved into Youngjae's tombstone. Nothing else, because Youngjae took their fatal mistake down into the depths of perpetual slumber, which the Daehyun in his dreams has no idea of. Maybe then, they can they live in peace.

"You look like a zombie," Yongguk jokes, a bid attempt to hint he knows something has happened. "Like you've lost your soul. The walking dead, argh." Yongguk roars a little and puts out his arms, toddling around before flashing a gummy grin.  _Handsome_ , Youngjae thinks, and he sinks his nails into his thighs as punishment.

They've been doing this lately. Jongup takes Youngjae out for strolls and apologises for casually (intentionally) bringing Daehyun into the conversation once Youngjae twitches. Junhong pretends he wants to clear his phone's memory space and sends Youngjae pictures to preserve them online, those where Daehyun and Youngjae are laughing together and they're too close for comfort. Junhong's reply to Youngjae's message,  _alright, tell me when you're done backing it up and I'll delete them_ , is still fresh in his mind.

_Don't these photos mean anything to you, hyung?_

The biggest tragedy of photographs is the fact that they perpetuate a moment, but never the people in it. They are not savepoints in a video game that allow you to rewind. They are parts of a museum, to be nostalgic and feel bittersweet over. Never solely happy nor sad with a partition's determination, but perhaps leaning towards one.

Youngjae laughs at Yongguk and the hollowness rings so clear Yongguk's smile dims. Youngjae wants to rush over and piece it back together, guilt gnawing at his ribs.

"You can tell me anything, Youngjae." He wrings an arm around Youngjae's neck and their contact is delectable. Perhaps only because it reminds him of how Daehyun holds him. Himchan and Jongup emerge from the kitchen, Himchan's chin on Jongup's thick shoulder as the younger boy pokes his tablet. Himchan refuses to let go of Jongup, hands wound tightly around his waist and hampering his walk. In one hand is a chocolate bar, Himchan feeding Jongup periodically as they waddle to the couch.

Yongguk tosses a cushion at Himchan's face, guffawing. "You two might as well get married at this point," Yongguk puffs in amusement. Himchan wiggles his brows, making kissy faces at a distracted Jongup. "Will you marry me, Jonguppie?"

"If you get off me, hyung, then yes," Jongup mumbles, taking another bite. Himchan bursts out laughing, hugging Jongup tighter and attempting to kiss him. Jongup leans away as far as possible, them struggling against one another comically.

"So you'll give up Lee Hi for me?" Himchan questions teasingly. Jongup widens his eyes and nudges Himchan off him. "That was so long ago, hyung. You said you wanted to get close to Younha-noona too."

"She was really my type, though," Himchan mutters. "Too bad she had a boyfriend." He unwinds his arm and trudges towards Youngjae, resting his head against his shoulder.

"Stay loyal to Jongup," Yongguk warns lightheartedly, knuckling Himchan's head. Youngjae chuckles, feeling foreign amid the joke too real in his sins.

"You look really tired," Himchan says. The artificiality extends over from Youngjae's wretched face to Himchan's smile as Youngjae shakes his head, chortling when Jongup trips and conks against the polished concrete. Himchan chides him for laughing and thankfully, Jongup doesn't bleed.

 

 

Sand that composes eye crust and tranquil sleep is traded for the insomnia and a lethargic reality Youngjae wonders could be a dream. Under the guise of darkness, they are safe. In the place where their demons haunt them best and they fall prey to cloaked perpetrators, they've managed to build a sanctuary too obvious in sunlight to house and protect two ostracised boys. It's miserable to reside where light doesn't exist, chased away like shadows hiding behind an admirable stature despite having been its offspring, because Daehyun shines so mesmerisingly to be veiled.

Yongguk had suggested they room together again to try and fix things. Daehyun and Youngjae hadn't objected to the idea in spite of how futile the solution was.

Under nightfall, Youngjae can focus on Daehyun's breathing on the opposite bed and his crumpled form. It is with their identities thrown far into the sea that they dare to meet, but still under the covers. Youngjae clambers into Daehyun's bed and Daehyun says nothing but grips him like he's his last lifeline. Youngjae takes the first step because Daehyun seems to treat him like an entity high above his head, something too precious and fragile for his filthy hands to hold unless bestowed permission. With their eyes obscured, they rely on warmth and hushed whispers (toned down, because it may break the lampposts on the other street and alert the police) to communicate. It's like going into relapse in the day to Youngjae, because he craves Daehyun's touch and sometimes he wonders if he was a girl, things would be so much easier. But then, he would never have met Daehyun, would he?

"Why?" Youngjae breathes, lashes beating tiredly against his eye circles. They've been laying in bed for the past two hours, arms tangled and Daehyun adoring the soft beating of Youngjae's heart. Both of them know the other's not sleeping though their eyes are shut and Daehyun remains still like camouflaging in the wilderness. "Was it out of lust?"

Daehyun keeps silent. Youngjae forgives him, because he cannot begin to imagine the muteness Daehyun has been enduring. Youngjae has only experienced a fraction of it, and he has to exercise all self-restraint not to fling himself into Himchan's arms because Himchan seems so genuine when he says he'll always be there for him, no matter what.

"I don't know what to tell you," Daehyun croaks, bleeding into a mere puddle in Youngjae's embrace. He breathes in hard and his lips graze Youngjae's chest. His arms are locked around Youngjae's waist, having been frozen there since midnight. Youngjae considers pouring cement over them now so they can break time and last forever.

Youngjae shifts downwards, his legs going off the bed as he levels himself with Daehyun. The remorse wrangling Daehyun's beautiful face makes it seem as though he murdered someone. A felony of breaking another boy in ways both physical and mental.

"When can you tell me, then?" Youngjae whispers. Daehyun's eyes are teary, so Youngjae delicately wipes them.

"I don't know," Daehyun returns again, like a shattered tape recorder repeating the same song over and over. His eyes dart around, desperately trying to take in Youngjae's features and imprint them permanently into his brain.

"I'm sorry," Daehyun cracks, churning out a cry so grievous it begets tears from Youngjae. It reminds Youngjae of how children cry, loudly and begging the entire world to hear their sorrow. He splutters over his chants, choking on his sobs forlornly. Youngjae grasps his face gently, thumbs unable to catch all the wet warmth pouring down.

"I'm so sorry."

Youngjae shushes him, breaths meshing underneath the moonlight. "It's okay, Daehyun." He knows it's not, but he says it anyway in hopes of fixing Daehyun with his very own shards. "I can wait." Hopefully, before his grave demands his occupancy.

"You don't  _understand_ ," Daehyun bleats, hysterically grabbing onto Youngjae's wrists. His eyes spare a glance at the nail marks sliced through Youngjae's skin, dried blood decorating his paleness sadistically. "I-I did this to you. If I'd just stopped myself, if I wasn't so selfish, you-"

Daehyun breaks, falling apart into infinitesmal dust from a star crashing down and burning into ashes. "You'd be okay." The misery wrecks Daehyun's face beyond recognition as he gasps for breath, the reality bashing them into the ground and demanding everything they'd worked so hard for like a bully after lunch money. Flung off the swings and rupturing their skulls because they landed just after the sand pit on the scorching concrete.

"I am okay," Youngjae lies for the sake of saving the boy in his grasp. The fiends trampling in his gut and the memory of proclaiming he'll marry a beautiful bride is melancholic on his tongue. He'd stuck a shabby drawing of his future wife and him on the notice board back in his first year of middle school. No one drew two boys together, obviously, since that goes against the arrangement of nature and the way the world works.

Youngjae doesn't want to think of the future and how they'll move on, but it's become an insatiable desire to have Daehyun by his side. He wants to pass this off as a one-time mistake, an accident, even. Two drivers crashing into one another (Youngjae hadn't checked before turning, Daehyun had seen it coming but couldn't press the brake in time) and staining the asphalt with crimson red. Maybe they could pick their dismembered bodies off the road, staggering to their feet and waving one another off. Both of their faults, so they'll settle on letting it slide and continuing on with their day.

But it's okay, right? It's just a passing phase that they'll smoothen out and laugh at years later. He's okay because he knows they did it because the company doesn't allow them to contact anyone so they broke and let their drive gnaw them up.

It's unfortunate, though, because if they were to try and pick up their limbs scattered over the road, they'd grasp on to nothing. Stop and let it sink in that they're souls had been divorced from their bodies. Hope the rain washes away the traces of their carelessness that commands grief from their loved ones.

"You're not," Daehyun breathes, wobbly arms tugging Youngjae's hands off his cheeks and encasing them like reciting prayers. "Don't lie to me."

"I am okay." Who does Youngjae hope to deceive? Daehyun knows him better than anyone else. But he still deludes Daehyun in vain, as he doesn't have the heart to tell Daehyun he cries in the bathroom and leaks cold sweat when Jongup touches him too intimately.

The recollection of Daehyun with his toothy grin, boyish laughter and embarrassing burps is hardly seeable in his weeping. Youngjae swallows back the urge to cry harder and gently guides their lips together. Daehyun instantly dives his tongue into Youngjae's mouth and kisses roughly, famished and desperate for more. Youngjae hopes it isn't because of what he thinks, as he himself feels it from the depths of his chaos. A one-way ticket to paving a path much too rocky for their feet not to fracture. He wonders, amid the romance novels his mother used to tell him about, how love can be so menacing and frightening.

Daehyun's eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and Youngjae forces his lips to twist. "I went to that jajangmyun shop without you," Youngjae softly strains out a chuckle, Daehyun heaving slowly to calm down his pants.

"Who did you go with?" Daehyun answers back, not truly over their conversation. Youngjae continues smiling and even though it slices his cheek, he finds happiness from their close proximity.

"Myself. Junhong wanted to accompany me, but..." Their hands are still interlocked. Youngjae squeezes Daehyun's fingers. "It'd feel like I was replacing you."

Daehyun smiles. It's forced and his desolation shrieks for a cure, but at least he's trying. "I still have our movie tickets."

"It's expired now, idiot," Youngjae whispers back teasingly, and he really wants to go closer to Daehyun but this is as close as they can go. "You wasted them."

"I didn't want to watch it without you," Daehyun answers quietly, mouth still curved. Youngjae scrunches up his nose and cheekily replies, "so you're the bigger saint?"

"Yeah, I am," Daehyun says jokingly, their voices faint and hushed in fear of the night watchman hauling their huddled bodies out. They speak of stars and suns across the solar system, vacuum standing vigilantly on the edge of the universe. Youngjae shares about the new smartwatch. Daehyun calls it stupid. Youngjae tells him of the red shoes he bought for Daehyun and how he threw them away even though he never wore them. Daehyun jokes that he'll go to the ends of the earth to dig it out of the trash and says he had a lot of things in mind for Youngjae's birthday present. They'd clogged his head incessantly, three months before Youngjae's birthday. Daehyun doesn't elaborate on why he didn't buy any of them.

Youngjae misses being able to talk like this, misses it so much he'd give up anything for it. So when Daehyun drifts off to sleep with the remains of ointment-dabbed wounds and their shaky conversation, Youngjae silently cries his heart out and curses every damn thing in this world for giving Daehyun back to him in such a cruel manner.

 

 

 

 

 

**Fear Me, Not You**

( _leave first!_ tragic adieu)

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has become a recurring pattern. Youngjae awakes to Daehyun gone, himself back in his own bed with Daehyun's warmth completely drained away. Abandoned like the madly in love, by playboys who return periodically to string them along and keep them chained. Youngjae says nothing and waits for Daehyun to figure out himself, waits patiently for the chaos within Daehyun to subside and for him to come up with an explanation and, pray to God, a solution.

In the day, Daehyun and Youngjae forget one another exists, despite the clarity doubling infinitely with the sunlight smouldering their skin. It is precisely this that makes their unnaturalness so much more obvious that perhaps Yongguk may squint a moment more to decipher their loving gazes. When Daehyun's in their shared room, Youngjae sits out in the living room. If he needs his laptop, Youngjae walks in, grabs it and leaves without another thought. Daehyun reciprocates with equal apathy, often curled up on the couch and falling asleep with his mouth wide open. Youngjae would laugh a year ago, but he himself collapses onto the bed in mid-afternoon and spends their excruciatingly scarce breaks sleeping away.

Numb. Youngjae had ultimately concluded incinerating in flames with his body charred beyond recognition was better than the biting winter. So he'd leapt into the fire and scalded all of his five senses and his soundness. It's difficult to feel anything anymore, except for the last thing he'd grasped before he combusted in the searing, licking heat. The last of his memory before he'd snapped.

He doesn't want to sit down and think because he can't fix this even though he's Yoo Youngjae, the brain of the group, the boy the manager goes to for input after Yongguk. The easy solution is what Daehyun had thought up as well, to avoid and pretend that nothing has happened. His heart doesn't jump into his throat when Daehyun grins so dashingly and he doesn't moan Daehyun's name when he's breathlessly thrusting his finger in and out of himself (the after-shame too intense to combat). What he's learnt from Daehyun's mistakes that made both of them tumble off the building is that you can only stay away for this long.

It's simple. It's simple, for fuck's sake, goddamn it, Yoo Youngjae! Pull your self together. You can forget all about it and everything will be fine and dandy. Too bad, how unfortunate, childish little Youngjae wants more of Daehyun as the days go by and he yearns the intimacy. He doesn't want to consider that maybe, just maybe, he'd fallen for Jung Daehyun, fellow teammate in B.A.P, best friend for three years, soulmate for eternities to come. (A fucking  _boy_ , what a joke. He'd never even given men a second glance before.) Because if he ever comes to that conclusion, he'll finally be sure that there's no hope. No way to permanently mask the crime scene stained with their fluids and disgusted spits from the public.

If Youngjae hadn't thrown himself into the fire, he would have frozen to death anyway.

"They look good together, don't they?" Yongguk comments, nudging Jongup in the chest. The chatter of the company staff brims at Youngjae's ears, his slouched back flopped against the pillar. Lately, the weariness has been latching him to a support constantly. Jongup peers over and Youngjae zones in on their conversation, doing the same.

Daehyun stands at the side of the practice room with a small-built trainee, smiling kindly and talking enthusiastically. The girl has wide, doll-like eyes, a precisely sharp nose and pouty, cherry lips. Her hazelnut brown hair falls to her shoulders, curled subtly at the ends.

"Mhm. She looks like hyung's type," Jongup remarks, the two in question oblivious to the attention. Daehyun breaks out into a laugh as the trainee grins shyly, twiddling her fingers. "Sweet and gentle."

Youngjae's jaw locks unconsciously. Bitterness permeates his entire being, along with a chilling sense that forces him to curve back into the wall. His eyes examine the girl Daehyun towers over. He can't deny what Yongguk has said; they look straight out from a couple photoshoot with their defined features and impeccable faces. A girl and a boy. Daehyun had once shared that he dreams of the perfect Sunday morning, playing with his children in the garden while his doting wife makes breakfast for them. Youngjae's throat goes dry.

"Small, too. You know Daehyun, he's the kind that wants to protect his girlfriend," Yongguk points out with a mischievous grin. Youngjae's hand climbs to his neck and he squeezes himself to take up less space on the bench. The girl has an impressive body despite her petite size. Long legs, tiny waist, large bust...

The coldness scratches into Youngjae's blood vessels and suddenly, his broad shoulders aren't something worth flaunting anymore. His lower lip quivers and his brows knit together. He swallows to regain control of his throat but he can't churn out a sound to call Daehyun back into his arms.

"He's into her," Jongup whispers, wriggling his eyebrows. "Look at what he's doing." Daehyun massages his shoulders, stretching out his arms. It  _can_  be interpreted as Daehyun trying to mask his narrow built, but that doesn't mean he is doing so. What the hell does Jongup know?

There must be some kind of promise within their embraces at night, right? Yes. Of course. Definitely. But all they talk about is stupid things. Nothing with substance. Like Youngjae's just a fling because Daehyun can't control his drive and needs somewhere to vent it out. Does the husband ever talk about his wife's new child with the blind affair?

A shaky breath escapes Youngjae's lips. They're standing too close to each other and the girl is now touching Daehyun's arm coyly. Youngjae wants to storm up and rip Daehyun from her aggravating clutch. However, as they continue to chat, all smiles and no pain, Youngjae wonders if he even has the right to claim Daehyun as his.

Youngjae tries to tear his stare away but his eyes are riveted sadistically on the pair. The girl's thighs are showing provocatively up to the edge of her behind and her crop top reveals her flat stomach. 

"He should seriously come to terms with it," Yongguk sighs in amusement. "Not anyone has the perfect built like Youngjae." He leans over, poking Youngjae lightly through his shirt where his stretch marks are. Youngjae doesn't reply, staring so hard his eyes start to strain. Pass the eye drops to vanquish the sore sight and gift his vision clarity once again. Daehyun's drawing is in his pocket.

"I'm getting old," Yongguk laments, massaging his face. "Seeing that just makes me worry if I'm ever going to get a girlfriend." Jongup chimes in with a chuckle, "I'm worried too. And we're celebrities, what a life."

"What makes you so sure he's interested?"

Youngjae's hand is trembling and his nails pierce into the fabric of his thigh. His face remains stoic and unfeeling, as though he couldn't care less. That's how he always deals with problems, anyway -- pretend it doesn't ignite anything heinous under his skin like his life depends on it and bash back all his emotions to leave rationality and just a tinge of spite.

Yongguk blinks with doe eyes, replying in Jongup's stead. "Um, it just seemed that way."

"It's childish to talk about these kind of things, don't you think? I thought we left the teasing back in middle school," Youngjae nonchalantly states. He still can't pry his gaze away. Daehyun turns to look at him.

"I'm gonna go get a drink." Youngjae rises and walks to the door, eyes focused straight ahead. Junhong stops him halfway. "Hyung," he says, frowning hard, "your eye bags are seriously so obvious." He pats Youngjae's face lightly. "What the hell have you been doing at night? You look like you haven't slept in centuries."

"Oppa?" In Youngjae's peripheral vision, the girl is quizzically gazing at Daehyun. Daehyun's face is veered in Youngjae's direction. Youngjae wryly shrugs and he hurries out of the room, afraid if Daehyun stares any longer he'll start to compare and pick out Youngjae's numerous faults.

Youngjae nods off during their meeting and gets chewed out by the director. He is instructed to go wash his face and he obediently exits the room, Daehyun's brooding gaze quickening the pace of Youngjae's feet. Through the closed door, Youngjae hears Himchan offering to follow behind. He is told to stay. Daehyun remains silent.

It's tiring. So tiring Youngjae waits for the night to come where he can recuperate. Not his drooping eyes or his sore body, but the fabric of his faith and soul.

 

 

Daehyun gets into bed with Youngjae instead of the other way round this time. He wraps his arms around the body facing away, Youngjae freezing in Daehyun's grasp. The silouhette of long hair and S-lines has dug so deep into Youngjae's mind it breeds an infestation of chilling insecurity and the grappling knowledge of never being able to.

Youngjae tries to distance himself but Daehyun spins him around, a sigh leaving his lips similar to heavy smokers finally reunited with murderous nicotine. Youngjae says nothing as Daehyun breathes in hard, hand groping americano contours instead of lilac curves. Their groins press lewdly against one another as Daehyun's hand slips up Youngjae's shirt, and panic assails Youngjae. His fear crystalises into a sickening notion of him as an imposter, stubbornly stabbing his oversized feet into the tiny shoes of Daehyun's rightful girlfriend. Like Cinderella's repulsive step sister.

 _Pretty. Small. Dainty._ Youngjae pushes Daehyun away and he widens his eyes, meeting Daehyun's confused gaze. Daehyun melts into a bewildered, worried frown and he leans down, experimentally attempting to brush his lips against Youngjae's. Youngjae shies away, eyes darting around with a gulp. Even without looking, Youngjae can picture the hurt and dejection scrawled into Daehyun's face.

Daehyun's hand removes itself from Youngjae's waist and he rolls onto his back, boring his eyes through the ceiling with peevishness. Youngjae apologetically squirms away, pulling up the band of his shorts in case Daehyun tugs them off to see the perverse and unnatural.

"You did well today," Daehyun's voice reeks of petulance, secret envy and ache, but he manages out those few words. "Your duet with Himchan-hyung." It's bitter. They were supposed to do it together but Himchan readily volunteered to replace Daehyun, citing the excuse to step out of his comfort zone. The management did not object.

Youngjae hums quietly. They wallow in silence, suffocating into an abyss of wordlessness and cut tongues. He doesn't want to push Daehyun for clarification as to their all too intimate night and subsequent, recurring embraces. Youngjae clutches the bedsheets.

"Do you ever want to get married?"

Youngjae's question remains harsh against the walls of their room, unravelling their secrets by peeling their skin with the most merciless knives. Daehyun blinks once and frustratedly sighs. "Let's... not talk about this."

Youngjae persists. "You said you wanted kids. Your own flesh and blood."

"So?" Daehyun's veins begin to protrude from his arms, clearly agitated because it's a clear cut truth. He acts like it's an interrogation and Youngjae is demanding a confession out of him, to spit it out that they have no idea what the fuck they're doing or what the world has in store for them. "I say a lot of things. I once said I wanted to be the president; look where I am now."

"You really like children," Youngjae says matter-of-factly in the most detached tone he can muster, throwing out information and letting Daehyun put whatever slant he wants on it.

Daehyun's voice grows increasingly venomous and irritated. "What are you trying to get at?"

"Nothing," Youngjae rebounds ruthlessly. The apathy ringing through his tone contrasts with the scorch up his neck, anger from a faceless girl who looked so flawless by Daehyun's side. "I'm just saying. Why are you so sensitive?"

"I'm not sensitive," Daehyun seethes though his hands ball into fists. " _You_  are the one pelting me with questions." Youngjae rolls his eyes.

They leave it at that. Daehyun shifts to the side of the bed, chest rising and falling sharply. He's fuming, because he interpretes all things he can't understand as a direct, personal attack. When confronted, Daehyun turns hot and mad while Youngjae turns cold and calculative, like fire and ice. It's odd how they match so well even though one is driven by emotions while the other relies primarily on logic when they've got nowhere else to turn to.

Any moment, Daehyun will rise and go back to his bed, ensconcing himself in the sheets while dwelling obsessively on Youngjae's words and combating them with hateful, unsaid speeches. On most occassions, Youngjae writes Daehyun off as petty and leaves him alone in spite of knowing clearly how to fix things. But just for today, even though Youngjae's as stubborn as Daehyun (Youngjae's headstrong in meaningless victory, Daehyun's obstinate in paranoia-ridden self-defense), Youngjae lets his immaturity clang down onto the ground along with his abandoned weapons. He doesn't know how long he can hold on to Daehyun, anyway.

"I'm sorry," Youngjae whispers, sincerity shining through. Unlike Youngjae, Daehyun cools down easily. Daehyun's innate fervor to protect himself and fend off whoever tries to crush him to the ground has his fortress flourishing tenfold with every prick, but ironically with a splash of gentleness, it demolishes into rubble of forgiveness and guilt. Daehyun rolls over and seals their lips, eyes spelling penance. He winds Youngjae closer and snuggles against him, lifting one of Youngjae's arms and laying it over himself like a bouquet on a corpse. Youngjae prays for reason to separate them.

"I'm sorry," Daehyun answers with heartfelt remorse. His fingers rest on Youngjae's thighs and snakes up the rim of Youngjae's shorts. He kisses Youngjae again, insinuations of never being able to get enough in his grip. 

Youngjae is sorry it feels like love.

 

 

 

 

 

**Of Mice and Men**

(and more than friends)

 

 

 

 

 

The sharp line differentiating a boy from a girl has become more prominent, Youngjae thinks more frequently. He'd always known he was a boy; it was as obvious as anything else. However, it'd never been a dawning, attention-seeking realisation, one that demands not just the subconscious to safeguard but the stream of consciousness too.

Youngjae gets excruciatingly nervous around girls recently, including the stylists and vocal coaches. It's not for the same reason as before, and he panics when the faces of him and a female staff are reflected in the same plane. He zones out when Junhong gets flustered over a voluptuous older fan and Himchan snickers so hard he spits, and when Yongguk talks about waiting for the right one to marry ( _"she'll pick up litter even if it isn't hers"_ ) and Jongup snarkily says Yongguk might as well plainly state he wants to marry a garbage collector. When Daehyun stands beside a woman, Youngjae can't help but think they look so good together. So good Youngjae wants to beg the scapel on the operating table to cut him open and bring him a new form.

The dorm is empty, except for Youngjae's sole presence. The stylists leave some of the make-up kits in their dormitory in the event the boys need to be dragged out of their beds for a sudden schedule (willingness and sickness not a matter for discussion).

Isolation is quite deathly. Sitting by yourself with no source of intervention lets your soul rot and darken more quickly than ever, because the only person you can talk to is yourself. And sometimes, the one thing you should have the most control over is the one you have least over.

Yesterday, backstage of a music show, Daehyun had been talking to Eunji. They'd met before for that advertisement. Daehyun hadn't bat an eye that day at her or any of her other group members, more interested in Youngjae's new hair and his slimmer thighs.

 _Hah, I don't need to diet because God blessed me with this awesome body._ Daehyun had leaned into Youngjae, gesturing for Youngjae to feed him.

Youngjae had acquiesced with an amused scoff, shoving the chopsticks into Daehyun's mouth and snickering as he spluttered.  _Keep quiet, no shoulders._

The make-up kit clatters inside the drawer as Youngjae rummages through it, hands unsteady and mind warped. His train of thoughts bends into a endless circular motion around the shapes of a dashing boy and a gorgeous girl, blaring about Busan and its famed beaches. All jokes in satoori and talks of how they miss hearing the genuine accent. Fingers brushing. Their height difference is something to coo about as Daehyun has to slouch slightly since Eunji's barefooted and her feet are so preciously minuscule. This is what a woman does to a man. She makes his heart thump at a ferocity so awe-inducing, permed hair and tender warmth. A body capable of giving life and the next-in-line, a future for all to behold.

Youngjae digs out the make-up, grasping it shakily like it's an invaluable wish stone. Maybe he can be as pretty as Eunji. He was ranked as one of the most androgynous idols that one time, and the fans are always gushing over his cute, porcelain features. The stylists said several times he was born with the most beautiful, unique face possible.  _You're lucky you don't have to go under the knife. Which boy has eyelashes as long as you? You know... I think Yongguk and Jongup don't even have eyelashes._ A sonorous laugh as the brush meets Youngjae's cheek.  _Oh, and Daehyun doesn't too._

Maybe Eunji isn't that far off, right? The possibility exists. Yeah, maybe.

Jongup's wind chimes are still hanging by the window sill, weaving a delicate tune to Youngjae's ministrations. He's seen the stylists do it a couple of times and when they were too busy to touch up a blemish, the group had to do it themselves. Youngjae sits in front of the mirror, dabbing some blue eyeshadow and curling his lashes. He gets them clumped up and irritatedly fixes his mascara, combing through his hair and powdering his cheeks. His hands are shaking but one wrong stroke is enough to be scorned as a failure.

Time passes without indication. The world leaves the desperate artist alone as he paints on his face, deliriously hoping to showcase a masterpiece worth to get him off the streets and be recognised. Youngjae dabs the last of his lip gloss and halts for good, boring his eyes through his reflection.

He doesn't look too bad. If he had some hair extensions, it would be more believable. Youngjae frames his face with his hands, imagining long locks reaching down to his shoulders. 

_You know her? Oh my god, I can't believe it! We used to be inseparable when we were young! Hey, maybe we met before, just that we don't know. My name used to be Hyerim._

_Oh please. As if Daehyun would forget a pretty girl like you. He told us he was a playboy back in Busan._

_Hyung, shut up! Don't ruin it._

Yes, maybe Youngjae can pass off as a girl.

It takes approximately half an hour of ogling for the reality to set in, like the dragged out suspense of a horror movie. The compact case crashes onto the ground as Youngjae shivers, staring wide-eyed at the mirror. His breathing stumbles erratically and he falls onto his behind, frantically crawling away from the numerous pencils.

( _Yoo Youngjae, what will your mother say? At her son's wake, oh, the heartbreak._ )

Youngjae grabs his head and tugs at his hair, panting transforming into audible squeaks. What the fuck had he been doing for the past two hours? The mirror mockingly thrusts his reflection back despite Youngjae ducking away into another angle, and he cowers when his back touches the wall like facing a mangled banshee. He'd been imitating the actions of a child emulating her favourite princess, messily thrashing make-up onto an unadulterated face.

What... what in the world had he been thinking? 

_I've gone mad._

Youngjae screams. He wails so loud, incoherent apologies to his mother spilling like fresh blood, that Himchan hears him from the doorstep and bursts in immediately. "Youngjae," he breathes in shock, scrambling up to Youngjae and cradling his gangly form.

"Youngjae, what's wrong?" Himchan's voice is quivering. Youngjae hides his face adamantly in stifling shame, crying so woefully he draws tears from Himchan. "Youngjae," Himchan pleads, eyes welled up with shimmer, "tell me what's wrong. Talk to me."

Himchan pries Youngjae's hands off after a long while of fighting and Youngjae's shrieks and sucks in a sharp gasp. The eyeshadow, blue and depressing, leaves a mark on Himchan's wrist as he hauls the boy closer to him, holding him tight with no clue on what to do.

"Talk to me, Youngjae," Himchan churns out a cry in spite of his strong effort to remain calm and channel composure over. "Please, I'm  _begging_  you. Tell me what's wrong."

Youngjae doesn't have the heart to. He fists Himchan's shirt as the blackened wetness taint his cheeks and the fabric, eyeliner draining away to reveal a sore-eyed boy. Himchan continues to embrace him, sniffing in hard and willing back his tears. "Is it Daehyun? Tell me, Youngjae. I won't tell anyone..."

It is. Youngjae seals his lips with the clandestine kisses Daehyun showers and sobs harder, pleading Himchan to stay a little longer with apologetic, woeful eyes.

 

 

Himchan has never been this furious before. His entire face is mashed up into a scowl the moment Youngjae calms down and the rest of the members return from their shopping spree. The vein down his jawline shows and he keeps quiet at the dinner table despite his usual joking, unbreakable demeanour. Everyone else notices something amiss, but they leave it to Yongguk to settle it. The guilt jolts through Youngjae's every vessel as Yongguk blinks slowly and collects the dishes, fatigue wrecking his body.

Himchan's raised voice, menacing and intimidating, cannot be deciphered from outside the house with the downpour so heavy. When they return, Yongguk passes by Youngjae's room and smiles kindly at him.

"Hey, Himchan wants you to sleep with him tonight." Yongguk gestures to the rain clawing at the window to be let in. "Thunderstorm."

No one would believe that excuse. But the fact Yongguk tries to make Youngjae not seem needy like a charity case makes Youngjae sorry beyond point, so he doesn't argue. Daehyun parts his lips in bewilderment upon seeing Youngjae drag his blanket over to Himchan's room, but before he can interject, Himchan steps in with a scornful look.

"He's sleeping with me tonight. Jongup will sleep in your room."

Daehyun frowns harder, eyes enlarged and attempting to comprehend the situation. Youngjae does not meet his gaze.

"Why?" It sounds too demanding, contradicting with Daehyun's usual indifference. Himchan doesn't buy it.

"Because I want him to," Himchan succinctly replies and nudges Youngjae into the room, shutting the door on Daehyun. He pulls up a gleeful smile and switches off the lights, pretense of the past few hours ready on his face.

"Let's share a bed. Sleepover!" Himchan announces boisterously, jumping onto Youngjae and pushing him onto the bed. Youngjae laughs and Himchan melts into a charming smile, pinching Youngjae's nose lightly. It reminds him of old times. Initially, Youngjae had always thought Himchan was a bit dense for an adult four years older. He'd only realised it was his naive mind that couldn't see through the thick fronts both Yongguk and Himchan had, an accompaniment of growing up, seeing too much and needing to maintain innocence of those around them.

Himchan's warmth is comfortable, secure and consoling, unlike the passion-igniting, heart bursting one from last night. Youngjae settles in and reminds himself they are just two boys in platonic, brotherly love. The heavy rain has transitioned into a mild drizzle, rapping against the window as curious spectators to Himchan and Youngjae's friendship.

"Guessing I'll finally get a good night's sleep today," Youngjae remarks to let Himchan knows he's okay. His fingers had been relentlessly clamping around his eyelashes during dinner, however.

Himchan chuckles. "What do you do at night?" He prods Youngjae's eye circles and ignores the trail of powder Youngjae hadn't cleanly rubbed off. He doesn't ask what the hell Youngjae had been doing when he found him.

_I fall in love. Hopelessly, with the boy next to me and his thick lips. His black hair. His secure hugs. Repeat the cycle under the guise of darkness._

"I think."

Himchan snorts in response, shaking his head. "That's a waste of time." He ruffles Youngjae's hair and nestles against him. "You shouldn't think too much, especially of your troubles. It just gives you a headache and makes you unhappy."

Youngjae lets out a quiet breath. Himchan smells starkly different from Daehyun. "Well, I'll have to face it someday, right? Who knows, it may snowball into something too big for me to handle if I just leave it like that."

"That's true, but don't forget to enjoy the other great things you have now. Else, it'll take a toll on you." Himchan purses his lips. "Some things just aren't worth it. Causes you too much trouble and pain. Better to let it go."

Youngjae can understand what Himchan's insinuating. "But what if it brought me a lot of happiness?"

Himchan ponders for a moment. "Hey, do you know what are sunk costs? It's an economics term. It means you only consider the marginal benefit of your choices, not what you've already incurred." He smugly grins. "People who don't follow it are considered irrational, or... stupid."

"Asshole." Himchan laughs at the insult. They slip into a comfortable quietness, teeming at the ends of Youngjae's recovering composure. Youngjae uses cryptic statements to reveal a peek of the turbulence thrashing within him.

"Hyung." Youngjae turns away so that his back faces Himchan, just in case Himchan delves too deep into Youngjae's pupils and sees a queer, hopeless longing. "Have you ever been in love, and wished you weren't?"

Himchan bores his eyes through Youngjae's curled up form. "Several times. Sometimes, it brings more pain than happiness, but you just can't let go."

Daehyun's laughter is burned into Youngjae's lips. His tongue swipes out to collect the remnants of Daehyun's saliva from last night. It'd been heated, and Daehyun's lips had trailed down to Youngjae's collarbones. Kissed Youngjae like how he should kiss his companion, touched Youngjae like how he should touch his paramour, held Youngjae like how he should hold his soulmate—the result of consummate love. It's supposed to be perfect; Youngjae had read it in a psychology article once. The equation of intimacy, passion, and commitment should birth the ultimate, most impeccable form of love. Then why did it feel so defective that Youngjae pushed Daehyun away?

"Love can be sickening, huh?" Youngjae breathes. "Consumes you completely. Makes you do the things you'd never do."

"......Are you two fighting over a girl?" Himchan asks quietly. Youngjae wants to laugh at how simple that alternative sounds to his feud with Daehyun. The wordlessness from Youngjae hints a whole new slant on the situation but Himchan keeps his words to himself.

"You have to decide what's most important to you," Himchan softly coaxes. Youngjae nods and he realises the rain has stopped. Nightfall is cold and so, Youngjae cuddles up to Himchan.

"Alright, no more talking. It's time for bed," Himchan announces, back to his cheery, fabricated tone.

"Good night, hyung." Youngjae misses Daehyun's loving hugs and shivering legs, hinting of a crippling inabilty to separate himself from Youngjae like indispensable conjoined twins.

"Good night, Youngjae."

 

 

In Youngjae's dreams, the longest time since he'd had one as he only catches about an hour of sleep with Daehyun's nuzzles and bated breaths wearing him down, he is wearing a dress. One that reaches all the way down to his ankles, yellow linen beginning from his waist strained in a corset. They are embroided exquisitely, patterns trailing preciously around his strangely light legs.

He is in a wooden cottage, straw sitting above for the roof and an unlit fireplace by the corner. He rises from his white, silky mattress on the floor, pinching his temple to quell the swelling headache. His fingers are dainty and long like Yongguk's (that Daehyun used to ogle at in wonder and tease a flushed Yongguk for.  _"You ate too many Lady's Fingers, hm, hyung?"_ ) and his shoulders are much more narrow than Daehyun's  _(_ _"You know girls still think you're manly, Daehyun. In fact, you're kind of gross. Look at the way you're eating now, like a barbarian. It wouldn't hurt to practise some manners like your hyung...?")_. 

Youngjae walks over to the mirror and furrows his brows in consternation to see the full reflection of a woman staring back at him. The reaction, however, is not as aghast as he would have been a few years ago. Youngjae's skin is as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. He twirls a full round, running a hand down the outline of his body. It's nice, but not in the way it should be, in a way that envisions Daehyun's pleased smile and solid embrace. He wastes an extended while admiring his new form, patting his cheeks to ensure it's not just make-up hiding his disfigured face, and paces around the house.

There are seven short beds lined up by the pillar. Each has a word scrawled into its footboard.  _W_ _rath, Greed, Sloth, Lust, Pride, Envy, Gluttony._ All the beds are bare of any bedding except for the fourth one. There's a crimson, stumpy, supposedly paranormal figure hidden within the bedsheets, hint of a tail slithering about. Somehow, Youngjae's instincts lead him to awaken the unidentified form asleep.

He taps on the curled up beast's shoulder once. Then twice. Then incessantly, without stop. The beast growls, stretching his vermillion arms and sniffling. His eyes are fully charcoal, fangs gleaming as he yawns. He faces Youngjae with a demeaning look, before a sinister smile creeps onto his face.

"I have been awakened from my slumber by a pathetic mortal," he sneers with an extremely deep voice, clawing at his cheek. Somehow, despite his intimidating aura, there is some sort of familiarity that leads Youngjae's terror to drop. He cocks his head one side. "What are you?"

"Well, that's rude," he returns, shifting to the edge of the bed and revealing his curled horns. "I am a demon. You can call me Lust."

"Where is Love?" The question falls from Youngjae's lips naturally. The demons releases a menacing cackle, throwing his head back harshly. "Love? What's that? A mispronunciation of my name? That does not exist."

"No," Youngjae clarifies. "Love. What makes you do things you would never have done.What makes you leap off a bridge, even when you wouldn't when paid all the money in the world. What makes you sacrifice your everything for someone else who cannot possibly hope to repay."

"Nonsense," the demon dimisses, long tongue dangling out to swipe his nose. "There is no such thing."

"Yes, there is," Youngjae persists, thinking of replaced organs and Daehyun's infatuated eyes. The demon scowls, licking his claws one by one. "That is only an illusion, my dear. It is not real."

Youngjae shrinks back in bewilderment. "W-What?" He stammers, gripping the edge of his dress draped over his knees. They remind Youngjae of when Daehyun tucks him into bed and his lips linger on Youngjae's forehead.

"Wherefore am I summoned, then?" The demon snickers, reaching out to cup Youngjae's cheeks. Memories of Daehyun buried deep inside him, their delirious pants and clacking teeth, instantly materialise within his head. "Are you sure it is not merely an excuse to continue sinning? A vague, unproven concept to mask over a mistake, hm?"

"I..." Youngjae wheezes, slumping against the demon's touch. The demon's tongue runs down Youngjae's jawline and Youngjae feels terribly dirty. "Let me ask you, then. Do you love Jung Daehyun?"

Youngjae's eyes enlarge and he sinks in comfort of Daehyun's stunning grins and stupid jokes. He cannot make out the words on his tongue. Youngjae pats on his throat to find something warm leaking through and a piercing pain through his vocal chords. Opening his mouth to practise the words is futile as his tongue has tied the knot. Heartbreaking fear pelts Youngjae's face in the form of tears and the demon shushes him.

"Do you want him to hear?" Youngjae follows the demon's stubby finger to where Youngjae had been laying. He parts his lips in stupefaction to find a glass coffin on the floorboards, the white satin Youngjae had been resting on layering its interior. Someone lies by the casket's side, hugging it tight while asleep. Youngjae stands unsteadily, dainty footsteps rushing over to a pudgy, dwarf-like version of Himchan.

Himchan's grip is vice-like from his reddened fingers insistent against the glass. Youngjae gingerly places a hand over Himchan's shoulder, wanting to wake him up but not wanting to showcase his current appearance. All of a sudden, a knocking interrupts them.

The stranger knocks once, unsure and soft. Then twice, growing fervid in nature as though having confirmed the owner of the house and its other occupants. Then incessantly, without stop, threatening to break down the locked door. A banging manifests and the doorknob rattles furiously, commanding to be let in.

Youngjae sucks in a breath, panic wrecking his beautiful, flawless little face. The demon strides over with a tormenting, cheshire-like grin, waving his tail around in amusement. "Who is it?" The demon drops his voice to a dragged out whisper, imitating a school teacher guiding a toddler to speak. The rapping of knuckles against the door is excruciatingly fierce, commanding for permission to enter and driven by a force so intense and hysteric. He feels a hand intertwined with his and looks to find Himchan, still asleep, has interlocked their fingers in assurance.

"Aren't you going to open the door?" The demon asks, propping his cheek up on his arm. "That person wishes to be let in badly. Oh, but are you going to go out like that?" He scrunches up his nose in disgust, circling his face.

Youngjae opens his mouth but muteness clamps it shut, flusteredly touching his face for blemishes and defects that tell of his true gender. He flashes a pleading look as the demon taps his head lightly with one finger. "Well, to make things easier, you'll only have two visitors. One, the evil Queen. Two, Prince Charming. But who is at your door is the question..."

Youngjae delicately untangles his smooth, slender fingers from Himchan and approaches the door cautiously. Whoever behind the door has an evidently fervid motivation, the hinges of the door shaking violently and about to fall apart.

"Open the door and you may find true love," the demon coaxes and sits on the coffin, extending a finger and drawing a line down the surface. Youngjae briefly imagines Daehyun stepping forth to rescue him from the everlasting paranoia. "Or you may meet your utter downfall." Youngjae's hand remains outstretched, fingers curled as he scrutinises the agitated knob.

"Do you want to open it? If you meet the Queen, you will ultimately die from the bite of the apple, and she may even heinously burn down the cottage. What about the four other hardworking, innocent dwarves who live here? Collateral damage, hm." The demon clicks his tongue and Youngjae inhales deeply, glancing back to Himchan on the floor. "But if you meet Prince Charming, you will have your happy ever after."

"Or will you? The Queen will follow you relentlessly, my dear. You and, now, the Prince as well, will be forced to run for your lives." Youngjae retracts his arm, boring his eyes through the door in hopes for making sense of the presence on the other side. He retreats, glimpsing at the curious animals watching through the window into the hut.

"You can always escape through the back door and save everyone, including yourself." The door trembles aggressively and the planks begin to cave in. "Like those who flee from a one night stand with regret. The merciful huntsman has offered the alternative for you to run as far as you can. It is not too late. But will you be willing to leave your one true love behind?"

Youngjae steps back hastily, careful not to trip over Himchan. He shivers as the wood snaps to reveal a jagged hole and Youngjae falls to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

**Falling To Hell, Seared**

(for you, how queer?)

 

 

 

 

 

When morning dawns and Youngjae misses the opportunity for intimacy, he wakes up to the sound of Daehyun and Himchan talking. It's half squabbling, half decent conversation because they have no real, unravelled reasons to argue. A hint of animosity wafts through the air, looming over the trio.

Youngjae continues to hide under the sheets despite the tension threatening to scrawl a fissure into the ground. He cannot see anything through white but he can make out the black forms of Himchan and Daehyun by the door frame. One of them is breathing harshly.

 

 

 

**DAEHYUN**

~~_Passes room indifferently. Not a single wandering gaze. Perfect nonchalance._ ~~

~~Good morning, hyung.~~

~~_Exit._ ~~

_Stands adamantly by door. Shows scathing acrimony, strained voice._

You locked the door last night, hyung.

 

**HIMCHAN**

~~_Yawns. Does not sense anything amiss._ ~~

~~Morning, Daehyun.~~

~~_Exit._ ~~

_Frowns. Vigilant. Youngjae keeps eyes closed._

Uh, why were you trying to come in?

 

**DAEHYUN**

~~_Offstage._ ~~

_Looks past Himchan. Suspicious. Gnashes teeth._

Hyung, you guys were sleeping in the same bed.

 

**HIMCHAN**

_~~Offstage.~~ _

_Baffled, increasingly watchful. Youngjae prays for breach in script to recover._

Yeah, so? Move, Daehyun. I want to brush my teeth.

 

**DAEHYUN**

~~_Offstage._ ~~

_Severely displeased. Himchan clears throat._

Why?

 

**HIMCHAN**

~~_Offstage._ ~~

_Shoots back easily, more antagonistic than needed._

What do you mean 'why'? Can't I share a bed with my dongsaeng?

_Footsteps. Distancing voice._

Why do you care, anyway?

_Exit._

 

 

 

_Silence. Long pause stretched over the seven seas bound to swallow them up if they stop swimming._

_Paranoid gaze burning through sheets. Shuffling feet. Exit._

[That male lead should be fired. Terrifying impromptu.]

 

 

 

Youngjae finally awakes from his pretense when Himchan brings in breakfast. They sit in the bedroom, watching random dramas and infomercials on his laptop. Himchan has voluntarily picked up a burden too heavy for him to carry, yet there is no ounce of regret in his eyes. An eyeliner pencil lays on the shelf and Youngjae secretly pockets it, scouring the place for where Himchan hid the make-up kit.

Youngjae looked pretty yesterday. Youngjae wants to see it again. Maybe draw a different portrait today to make up for his hideous flaws he was unfortunately plagued with.

"Hey, hyung."

"Yeah?" Himchan's cursor hovers across the screen as he scrolls through more videos. Youngjae spent a lot of just now, under the covers, conjuring up what ifs. Scenarios, if you will, of how Daehyun and him could have met in a thousand alternate universes. A male and female trainee hanging out after dance practices. Best friends turned lovers, inseparable since childhood. A boy junior infatuated with his female senior. A businesswoman bumping into a single father at a coffee shop. 

"Do you ever wish you could turn back time?" Youngjae sinks back into the pillow. "To go back to the good old days." Where nothing hurt, and Daehyun got angry when Youngjae said he would get a girlfriend three times faster than Daehyun.

"Well, sometimes, I do," Himchan says thoughtfully. "But it's not good to live in the past, Youngjae. You musn't fear change. It's always gonna be there, alright? We all have to face it."

Youngjae nods, pointing to one of the suggested videos. At this very moment, Himchan is the one thing that keeps him from falling apart.

"Hyung."

Himchan optimstically hums, cackling at the comedy playing. Youngjae has his head on Himchan's shoulder, lashes tiredly batting. He reaches up to press his lips against Himchan's cheek. Himchan blinks in surprise, rotating his head towards Youngjae.

"Thank you."

Himchan closes his ajar mouth, but before he can make out a reply, a deafening, quaking bang reverberates through the dorm. Himchan jumps out of bed to check and finds a nonplussed Jongup staring at the front door. Yongguk emerges with consternation. "What happened?"

"Daehyun-hyung slammed the door," Jongup meekly answers, still frightened by the resounding smash. Yongguk quizzically paces up, inspecting the door for damage. "Hyung pushed Jongup-hyung out of his way and just stormed out for no reason," Junhong squawks from the couch.

"What's his problem?" Himchan grumbles, combing his dishevelled hair in frustration. Yongguk crouches and pokes at a crooked hinge. He sighs lengthily as Youngjae bends down to pick up the compact case underneath the sofa. Youngjae hastily hides it when Junhong takes a peek, thumb tracing the sharp outlines.

Yongguk peers into the kitchen, catching the untouched loaf of bread. He exhales, grabbing his wallet and a mask. "If Daehyun comes home, leave him alone," Yongguk advises, putting it on. Youngjae nods obediently and the door creaks shut, Yongguk's pattering footsteps increasing in ferocity. The traces of hatred and irascibility have dented the edge of the door.

"Himchan-hyung." Youngjae yawns and acts casual in spite of his quivering lip. "I'm gonna stay in my room for the whole day. That's okay, right?" Himchan flashes him a look of concern.

"I mean, now that he's out of the house... I just need some time to myself. To think over everything. Do you think you guys could leave me alone just for today?"

Himchan hesitates, but ultimately nods. "Take care of yourself," Himchan says. Youngjae falsely promises with a nod.

 

 

Face painting is what children do at birthday parties. What clowns do behind the curtains. What they do backstage before a concert. What Youngjae does before meeting Daehyun.

As promised, Himchan does not disturb other than to carefully open the door and slide dinner in, much alike to a prison guard who feed the incarcerated. He informs Youngjae that Yongguk has found Daehyun, but returned alone. In the darkness, Youngjae's mask is concealed, so Himchan cannot tell the make-up threatening to scorch into Youngjae's skin. Youngjae waits, after hours of reshaping, touching up and pinching the edges to prim perfection, for Daehyun to come back. Youngjae dons a loose, white dress shirt, baggy enough to give the impression of things that are not there, and no shorts to reveal pale thighs. The pencil marks on his face have been erased so many times and rewritten that Youngjae is almost afraid he might tear a hole in his skin.

The noisy atmosphere abruptly cuts off as Youngjae pretends to read on of the books Yongguk loaned him ( _"take your mind off things, okay?"_ ) called The Yellow Wallpaper. The whole neighbourhood seems to go quiet when the door clicks shut. Daehyun's strange drawing is clasped in the middle. Youngjae blinks slowly, afraid to ruin the make-up, as he pieces the hints together in suffocating ebony while the air remains deadly silent. Yongguk says something. There is no response. Himchan says something, this time louder. There is no response.

Somebody raps on the room door and opens it carefully. Jongup blinks meekly and softly announces, "Daehyun-hyung is back." Youngjae merely hums, the clip-on book light revealing only Daehyun's card and not his face. His heart begins to thump at a maniacal ferocity, smashing against his chest as he thinks of what Daehyun would say upon seeing him. A twisted excitement of a wife at bay, dolled up to receive the love of her life and his wandering eyes.

It is all peace and quiet like a cemetery. Out of the blue, the door flings open and Himchan's remnant of a warning withers in the air. Youngjae does not look up at him, eyes scouring over red. Daehyun seems to stand by the door for a while before kicking it shut, towelling his hair dry.

"So." Daehyun's voice strains so hard violin bows constantly stretched would scream in sympathy. "I was just an experiment, huh?" His tone is mocking and unruffled but hints of a demand to be heard. Youngjae pays no heed since he has to play the perfect doll. The agony pierces so far back it goes through his spine and Youngjae thanks the bed for support.

"Just something for you to test out. Confirm." Despite his seemingly light tone, his syllables are crisp and similar to those of choked sobs. Daehyun has always been terribly bad at hiding his feelings. His emotions scribble all over his face like an unstoppable pen, scratching in frowns and twitches at the needed places to give away everything. Youngjae remains silent.

Once Daehyun gets angry, he will begin spitting out more spiteful words in desperation of receiving a reply. He jabs hard, harder, because it's the only way to make the opponent feel Daehyun's doubling injuries. Everything goes blurry and his delirium makes his self-control and usual kindness go haywire.

"Isn't it selfish?" As predicted. Round of applause, but what less can we expect from Jung Daehyun's closest friend?

"That, you know," Daehyun's chuckle is mocking and scathing, "you just throw me aside? Isn't that kind of what sluts do?" He winds around to his bed.

"So Himchan-hyung is better, I'm guessing?" Daehyun tosses the towel so hard the flimsy material slams against his headboard. Youngjae swallows but maintains his composure. The accusations claw through his heart but he reminds himself behind this facade, he is invincible.  _Keep your cool._

Wait for it. Footsteps. Wait for it. More footsteps. Wait for the break and growing divulgence. Halt.

"Answer me," Daehyun sounds out through gritted teeth. Youngjae keeps his stare trained on his book. Daehyun snatches it and hurls it down onto the ground. Youngjae narrows his eyes, looking up to meet livid eyes and shallow breathing. _Keep your cool._

"I said  _answer me_ ," Daehyun seethes, balling his fists and uncontrollably shaking his arms. Youngjae blinks and turns away, but just before he can slump down onto the bed, Daehyun roughly pulls him up by the collar.

"Fucking answer me, Yoo Youngjae," Daehyun holds back an enraged shriek for the sake of not alerting the other members, but Youngjae knows he's on the brink. They glare hard at one another, fire scratching through ice, and it's so stabbing that Youngjae's eyes begin to hurt. _Keep your cool_.

Daehyun slams Youngjae against the wall and his lips are thrashing against Youngjae's, tongue digging into Youngjae's mouth and hands gripping Youngjae hard to prevent him from escaping into anyone else's arms. Youngjae kisses back with equal fervor, blindly grabbing at Daehyun's hair and pushing their mouths closer and closer. They're both hurting, Daehyun's harsh grasp and Youngjae's merciless pull on hair, but the concoction lets loose all the pandemonium mauling their insides.

"I'm just your fucking toy, huh," Daehyun breathes sorely, pushing Youngjae onto the bed and thrusting his tongue back into Youngjae's bruised lips. Their teeth are biting and drawing blood, discreetly yearning for understanding of their wounds, and Youngjae bucks his hips up against Daehyun. Youngjae winds his arms around Daehyun's neck to choke him to death and they deepen their kiss, Daehyun clawing at Youngjae's shoulder.

"I was fucking nothing, wasn't I?" Daehyun spits once they part in a plea for their abandoned breathing to return, staring down at Youngjae with such hurtful eyes Youngjae wants to say sorry for everything. Daehyun catches his breath and his eyes widen in utter shock.

"Youngjae?" The transition between hatred to consternation is laughable. Tear off all the skin to show that love is truly formidable and anything, from the most horrible of evils to the purest of goodness, can be born from it. Daehyun wipes at Youngjae's lips, glancing at the dark ink he'd gathered, and he gazes down in confusion at Youngjae's face. "Why..." His eyes run over Youngjae's face in perplexity and he hurriedly switches on the bedside lamp, jaw slackening at his find.

"Why are you wearing make-up?" Daehyun asks in a slight stutter, hesitantly reaching down to wipe the blush from Youngjae's face. Youngjae stares back wordlessly and lets his tears do the talking. It's the first time Youngjae has genuinely let himself crumble, not bothering to hold back his grievous weeping mimicking the howls at funerals. Daehyun grasps Youngjae's face and hastily dashes the tears, attempting too late to stop a broken faucet of fully brewed insanity. 

"D-Don't..." Youngjae stammers, eyes growing with hysteria, "don't I look pretty?" Daehyun's breathing begins to speed up as his mouth parts further in anxiety. "Pretty?" He repeats in an overwrought pitch, tenderly but firmly wiping away the powder and staining his wrists.

"Youngjae," Daehyun wheezes, pulling Youngjae into his chest and hugging him tight. His grasp is delirious like picking up crumbling pieces of a building bound to be demolished. Try and put the debris back in place and be overwhelmed by the speed it's toppling at. "W-Why are you doing this? You're so beautiful the way you are, why are you-" Youngjae relaxes in the embrace he'd always loved since the day they shared their worries about their debut, so safe, so haven-like, so deluding, and sobs madly into Daehyun's shirt. Daehyun chokes out a blubbering speech of a mangled boy completely at a loss. "Please believe me, Youngjae. You're beautiful the way you are. Youngjae, you're beautiful, I-"

"God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Youngjae. Please... Please don't do this again." Youngjae clutches onto the fabric as Daehyun pulls him closer, begging in a tearful, absolutely grievous voice for Youngjae not to cry. Daehyun gives up his tears in hopes it's some kind of trade the world demands so Youngjae doesn't have to wail, but he doesn't realise they're giving their tears to one another. They can't be anymore sorry to each other than now.

It takes half an hour for Daehyun to wipe off all traces of artificiality from Youngjae's face and leave it blank and naked. He proceeds to kiss Youngjae as gently as possible, basking in tender warmth and unsaid love. Daehyun pulls away as Youngjae runs his hands down his contours, Daehyun's eyes uncertain and ingrained with nerve-wrecking worry to break the boy he'd already shattered further. Youngjae assures him through puffy, bloodshot eyes that this is the last Daehyun will break him for tonight and matches their lips once again. They keep mum as they explore one another, heartfelt intimacy brimming in their shivering lips.

Daehyun cautiously unbuttons Youngjae's shirt, suckling on his collarbone, while Youngjae slips a hand down Daehyun's boxers. Daehyun lets out a moan, gyrating against Youngjae's tender fingers, and traces down Youngjae's body to his behind. They spend a long, almost eternity-like time admiring each other's forms, mouths attached and hands begetting pleasure. Youngjae tugs down the rest of their garments and as they come to a stop, Daehyun unsure to go any further and eyes offering Youngjae anything he can possibly give, Youngjae reassuringly spreads his legs and allows Daehyun to take him once again.

Softly. Gently. Quietly. A clandestine affair of so much more that those not in their shoes would misunderstand. Daehyun's thrusts are slow and consuming, Youngjae's eyes coming to a close as he arches back against the sheets. He wraps his legs around Daehyun's waist and matches Daehyun's tempo, bliss caressing his veins. Daehyun massages Youngjae's member and presses their lips together like shy middle schoolers. Youngjae likes being held by Daehyun, no matter how many times he screams it in his head and thinks of it obsessively.

Their lips match like halfs of a couplet, the world dissolving into nothing but indescribable melodies as Youngjae clutches onto Daehyun. They gaze at one another, so lost, so alienated by the world, yet Youngjae believes it'll be okay if they just have one another by their sides. Daehyun's eyelids fall and his pupils reflect so much affection it seems like a dream. Youngjae softly cries out as Daehyun moans shudderingly, breath against Youngjae's ear. All of Daehyun's touches are so tender and warm and Youngjae wants to understand how they can be so miserable together when Daehyun only brings him happiness.

Amid Daehyun's whispers of 'you're beautiful' and his grief-stricken confessions of having destroyed a king with his filthy, beggarly hands, Youngjae kisses Daehyun. Everytime Daehyun begs to be convicted and be subjected to capital punishment, Youngjae forgives him with interlocked fingers and gentle smiles. His hands wrap around Daehyun's jaw, finger tips brushing his neck, and they release between their exchange of breaths.

It feels like love. Even if it isn't, and no one in the world has a name for it, Youngjae still wishes for it to never end.

 

 

Youngjae falls asleep to Daehyun's soothing strokes and passionate words, whispering of love stories he read and hinting of something they'd both been fearing since the spark of their newfound connection. Daehyun calls him beautiful so many times Youngjae temporarily forgets how much he lacks in the space that should be rightfully occupied by a female. Youngjae softly says back that Daehyun is so much more beautiful, and Daehyun grazes his smile over Youngjae's lips.

Daehyun says he hasn't been looking at girls for a long, long time and implies a smouldering infatuation with a boy for more than a year—something Youngjae had failed to notice amidst his unceasing whines for a girlfriend. Youngjae realises Daehyun had been the sole thing occupying his thoughts for months, in spite of the fact Youngjae was deadset on showing Daehyun he could easily live without him. Daehyun throws away the make-up kit and makes sure to tie the garbage bag up. They spend the hours past midnight kissing, vigor sustaining infinitely as their souls unify.

That night, Youngjae dreams. He sees Himchan instead of Daehyun. They're in court and both of them are donning grey, dreary, lifeless suits. Everyone else around them are faceless but the drone in the air is consistent and repetitive.

Youngjae stares at Himchan from across the stand. Himchan is nibbling on his nails, a habit he'd stopped before debut and tried to get Youngjae to quit. Himchan holds his gaze with reassurance as Youngjae's attorney, though his slippery grip on his briefcase tell otherwise. The bible sits in Youngjae's hand. The registrar moves his mouth and Youngjae repeats after him. "I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Youngjae montonously churns out.

The world whirs and the audience, despite having no eyes, glare at him so menacingly Youngjae believes he is already convicted without testifying. An intimidating man rises, clearing his throat.

"The prosecution may proceed."

"Thank you, your honour."

Youngjae shrinks back into his skin. Someone cries out from the gallery about abomination and Yongguk jumps to his feet, pulling the man in question by the collar. The judge calls for order in the court, gavel striking against the block like knuckles knocking for permission to enter.

"Mr. Yoo." Suddenly, a grey table materialises under Youngjae's hands and metal slices through his wrists. The handcuffs rattle loudly, the sound strangely similar to that of a doorknob being twisted. The prosecutor splits into an interrogator, police badge gleaming and looming over him malovently.

"Did you commit lewd acts with Mr. Jung Daehyun?"

Youngjae's blood goes cold and a circus-like theme song plays mockingly in the background as people start to point and whisper. One unabashedly guffaws, making insulting gestures. Youngjae parts his lips but all that comes out is an embarrassing honk. Himchan shoots up, throwing out an accusing finger.

"Your honour, I believe the pro-"

"Mr. Yoo," the man cuts in, voice raised. He sounds oddly like one of the reporters who'd tried to pry out who Youngjae's ex-girlfriend was. It changes midway into a female's voice of a recent interviewer. "Did you have sexual intercouse with Mr. Jung?"

"Your honour, the prosecution is badgering my client!" Himchan bangs his fists on the table but the judge remains quiet, discrimination clear in his eyes. Youngjae wipes at his forehead to find white remaining on the back of his palm, and crimson. Under his gaze as he crosses his eyes, he sees that his nose is covered by a vermillion ball.

"Answer the question," the man aggressively demands, cold and unforgiving. Youngjae shudders uncontrollably, searching around the courtroom frantically for Daehyun amid the jingle of chains. Fear seeps through his nerves and pespirations drenches his neck. Youngjae can't find Daehyun.

"Your honour!" Himchan nearly shrieks, rage blasting through every syllable.

"The persecution of prostitution may proceed!"

Youngjae crumbles. "Yes," he confesses weakly, slumping as the handcuff grows tighter around his arms. A collective, diseased gasp spreads through the room. The prosecutor clicks his tongue in disgust, pacing back and forth with his piercing glare never leaving Youngjae's pathetic form. A boy asks innocently if there are anymore freakshows left to look at. The stand turns into a ring on fire and Youngjae's shoes squeak loudly when pressed, a clown on display.

A balance scale appears in the prosecutor's hand and a locked, old chest sits in the left pan. Every memory of Youngjae's, prior to his lovemaking with Daehyun, exists within the right pan. They swirl with an ambitious glow beside the box.

"Mr. Yoo, which did you choose?" The prosecutor dangles the scale demeaningly before Youngjae. The stand sprouts a roof and shrinks, crushing Youngjae down in a rusty cage with a outdated lock. It's natural to reach out and prod the chest like it's a key, the peal of presumed ingots resounding.

"Love," Youngjae recites the word with the tone of a three-year-old curiously practising her phonics. Instantaneously, the box unlatches and an explosion of ebony mist savagely beseiges Youngjae. The howls of ghouls swarm Youngjae grimly, choking every fibre of his being. 

"Condemned! Love, an impossibility!" The prosecutor bellows, smashing the scale onto the ground as its contents shatter. "Adjourn the court! My client is not feeling well!" Himchan roars till the lamps above break and go out, leaving darkness to lend charitable shade to Youngjae.

The witnesses flash past the witness stand, fragments of their testimony beating down on Youngjae's back. "He was always looking at him with those irksome eyes!"

"Terrifying, how they would touch each other and not think twice about it."

"We all saw the way they treated one another. So loving, so appalling."

"How did your parents raise you?"

Everything blurs and the world moves so fast Youngjae can't differentiate anyone out of the murkiness. "The jury finds the defendant guilty!" The gavel pounds mercilessly. "You are hereby sentenced to death by suicide!"

The fog ruthlessly drags Youngjae away as Himchan frenziedly begs for mercy on Youngjae's behalf.  "He's just sick!" Himchan shouts deliriously and lunges for Youngjae, desperate to save him. "He'll be better tomorrow, I swear! Back to normal! Postpone the hearing!  _Postpone the hearing!_ "

"May Lord have mercy on your soul."

"Psalm 27:12!  _Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, spouting malicious accusations!_  They are lies! Please, your honour! I beg of you!"

Officials hold Himchan back as he struggles in distraught. "Youngjae!" He shrieks, "Youngjae! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Youngjae!"

The dismal phantoms tighten like a noose around Youngjae's neck and Youngjae splutters to reply through his wails. "I'm sorry, Himchan-hyung," he wheezes, nearly tripping over his feet. "I'm sorry you kept waiting for me to get better and I never did."

"Youngjae!" Himchan shrills, repetitive screams evanescing into a distant memory. Within the relentless spirits, a timid soul surfaces and caresses Youngjae's tear-stricken cheeks. The spirit's following whisper ignites a tearful, bitter joy in Youngjae's heart and it ghosts over Youngjae's lips, transforming into a familiar hand and echoes of laughter and an accent. It calms every hysterical vein in Youngjae's being and he shuts his eyes to meet the executioner.

("Youngjae, I love you.")

 

 

 

 

 

 **Apart No More, Love**  

(guilty, hung from above)

 

 

 

 

 

 **HALE** : Woman, plead with him! _He starts to rush out the door, and then goes back to her._ Woman! It is pride, it is vanity. _She avoids his eyes, and moves to the window. He drops to his knees._ Be his helper! What profit him to bleed? Shall the dust praise him? Shall the worms declare his truth? Go to him, take his shame away!

 **ELIZABETH** : _Supporting herself against collapse, grips the bars of the window, and with a cry_. He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him! 

 

**THE CURTAIN FALLS**

 

 

 

 

 

_Jack and Bill went up the hill_   
_To fetch a pail of water_   
_They held hands and up they ran_   
_And came across an altar_   
_"Where is Jill? Then, no refill!"_   
_"These martyrs, with no answers!"_   
_Jack then asks for breathing masks,_   
_Forgiveness, in his prayer_   
_Seeked to live, never to grieve_   
_So they fled from the pastor_   
_Jack fell down and broke his crown_   
_And Bill came tumbling after_

 

 

 

 

To be, or not to be, that is the question—  
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer  
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,  
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,  
And by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep—  
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end  
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks  
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,  
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub,  
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,  
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,  
Must give us pause. There's the respect  
That makes Calamity of so long life:  
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,  
The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,  
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,  
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns  
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,  
When he himself might his Quietus make  
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardels bear,  
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,  
But that the dread of something after death,  
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn  
No Traveler returns, Puzzles the will,  
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,  
Than fly to others that we know not of.  
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,  
And thus the Native hue of Resolution  
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,  
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,  
With this regard their Currents turn awry,  
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,  
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in all thy Orisons  
Be thou all my sins remembered.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes here: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/630596/14/


	16. stream of subconsciousness

 

 

 

 

 

**ATTENTION, PASSENGERS**

The train of thought is arriving. Please stand back from the edge of the platform until the train comes to a complete halt. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _Round her neck she wears a yeller ribbon,_  
_She wears it in winter and the summer so they say,_  
_If you ask her "Why the decoration?"_  
_She'll say "It's fur my lover who is fur, fur away._

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey."

Daehyun grunts in response, hand roughly rubbing his right eye. The boy beside him sighs, tugging his arm away. "Stop it. You're gonna go blind at this rate." Daehyun nods wordlessly, resuming his destructive ministrations as his irritated eyes begin to turn red.

"Daehyun," Youngjae chides, firmly latching his palm onto Daehyun's wrist and leading him through the throng. Daehyun lifts his other arm to scratch at his tear duct but Youngjae nimbly catches his limb, holding them together as the faceless crowd bustles past them. Daehyun blinks hard and fast, trying to quell the itch brewing between his eyelids.

"Come on. We're almost there," Youngjae placates, glancing back with a grimace. "Look at you. We really need to get you off contacts asap." Daehyun experimentally opens his eyes, groaning at the brimming sunlight and shutting them tight again. He stumbles a little over the other passers-by's feet in the darkness, allowing Youngjae to pull him to their destination. "Ugh, it burns, Youngjae. It burns," Daehyun whines loudly.

"Stop whining," Youngjae laughs, letting out a relieved sigh as his footsteps stop. "You have to wear your new glasses off stage, alright? I don't care if you look ugly or not." Daehyun accidentally bumps into Youngjae, lips meeting Youngjae's neck. Youngjae emits an irked exclamation, wiping at his back. He nudges open the door and guides Daehyun in, smacking him on the forehead to see Daehyun still with his eyes closed.

"Dumbass," Youngjae scoffs amusedly as Daehyun pries open one eye and whimpers exaggeratedly. The world is blurry and distorted without the help of his contact, but they have given him sore eyes from overuse. Daehyun and Youngjae settle down on the stools and the optician roams over, face smudged beyond recognition. Daehyun pays no heed, patting his squinted shut right eye and using his good eye to gaze at Youngjae.

"Hi, um, he needs spectacles," Youngjae provides, lips quirking politely at the ends. His lips are especially red today after their impromptu Kimchi eat off, spiciness dabbing a pretty shade onto his mouth. The optician nods, ushering Daehyun into a room to do the eye exam.

"You'll wait for me, right?" Daehyun calls cheekily as he follows after the woman in a pristine white coat, grinning brightly. Youngjae shakes his head in exasperation, though his small smile betrays his expression. "Where else would I go, idiot?"

The optician shuts the door as Daehyun seats himself on the raised chair, eyes twitching uncomfortably. "Sir, please rest your chin there," the optician instructs and Daehyun does as told, looking into the autorefractor. "You'll see a picture of a meadow and a boy standing in the middle. It'll turn blurry and clear several times. Please remain relaxed and continue looking at the boy."

Daehyun unwinds his shoulders, gazing at the picture presented. As mentioned, a boy stands in a field peppered with white. Hills rise and fall behind the figure gazing out at the horizon. Despite his back being turned, he looks oddly familiar. Daehyun hums a soft tune, enjoying the serene view with the boy.

"Okay," the optician chimes and Daehyun leans back, watching with intrigue as she brings the phoropter forward. Adjusting it to the prescription, she positions it by Daehyun's eyes. "Now, can you read out the letters to me on the eye chart over there, sir?"

"Hm..." Daehyun looks through the lenses with his left eye, musing, "W, H, A, T, D, O, Y, O, U..." He starts to squint and the optician switches lenses, the itch persisting. "Can you see clearer now?"

"Yeah," Daehyun decides, listing on. "S, E, E, W, I, T, H..." The optician flicks another lens and Daehyun continues, "Y, O, U, R, um, E, Y, E, S, C, L, O, S, E, uh... D?" The optician hums in satisfaction, switching to the next eye and then ultimately to both. Daehyun emerges from the room after a prolonged while, singing merrily upon seeing Youngjae still in his seat. Youngjae casts him a demeaning glance, massaging his nose bridge.

Daehyun pats his prickly eyes as the optician offers an arrays of frames for Daehyun to choose from. Youngjae scours over them, pointing to a circle-rimmed one. "Hey, that one's nice. Looks like the one I wore for our Stop It MV." Daehyun keeps his eyes shut, basking in Youngjae's voice. Even without looking, he can tell Youngjae's eyes are wide from his enthusiastic tone, dipped with a tinge of nostalgia.

"Those don't suit me," Daehyun points out, snapping open his eyes painfully and moaning in annoyance. "Can we get some eye drops?" Youngjae requests, gently hauling Daehyun's arms away. "Do you want your eyes to fall out? Stop rubbing them. Your hands are dirty." Daehyun makes a face, letting his eyes fall to a close.

"Help me pick one that fits me." Daehyun gestures to the glass cabinet and gratefully accepts the eye drops. The artificial tears slip from his lashes and Daehyun snivels, gruffly wiping at his stained cheeks. Youngjae bends over, perusing the available frames. "I think... they'll all look ugly on you."

Daehyun casts him an incredulous glare as Youngjae feigns innocence. "See, it's not the glasses." He leans closer, eyes enlarging in pretended seriousness. "It's your face." Daehyun slaps his hand onto Youngjae's face and the boy yelps, reaching out to grasp Daehyun by the collar. They wrestle a little before Youngjae shoves Daehyun away, apologising to the observing optician. He adjusts his shirt, cheeks slightly red from their play fighting, and Daehyun reaches out to pat Youngjae's ruffled hair down.

"When's the earliest we can collect it?" Even though they're here primarily because of Daehyun, Youngjae's slightly bossy nature has him taking charge, asking all the questions and dictating what to do. It sometimes irritates Daehyun whenever Youngjae just waves away his opinion in favour of his own, but at times like this, it's quite endearing. Half of his behaviour may be due to his own innate need to lead, but Daehyun's sure it also derives from his desire to take care of others.

"In an hour, if you don't want any add-ons." Daehyun whistles in marvel, glancing down at the frames and picking up one of them. He tries on one, then another, then another, to which Youngjae all casts him a look of distase. Ultimately, Daehyun slaps Youngjae's knee and decides on a black-framed spectacles similar to the one he had in high school. They decide to wait around and Daehyun instinctively winds an arm around Youngjae's hips, hauling him out of the shop after paying.

"What are we going to do now?" Daehyun grumbles, hand drumming a tune on Youngjae's tummy. His recent binge has brought back a bit of flesh over his stomach but Daehyun likes the feel of it, more so than the ribs accentuated by Youngjae's diet during their Power era. He cackles inwardly at the memory of Youngjae's terrifying hairstyle; Youngjae had threatened to headbutt him everytime he fiddled with the spiky ends.

"Get coffee?" Youngjae asks. Daehyun snivels his nose. "You're talking like Himchan-hyung. Let's watch a movie. There's the new Alice in Wonderland horror remake." Youngjae cocks his head one side, pondering on the offer. His lips are really, really red. They look like sugared apple slices. It's nice. "I read the summary," Youngjae informs, "It's kind of boring. Alice-"

Daehyun hastily places his hand over Youngjae's mouth, shaking his head adamantly. "No spoilers. You're gonna ruin it for me," Daehyun grunts, palm lingering over wetness for a prolonged moment. Youngjae rolls his eyes, pushing him away and yelping when Daehyun wipes his hand on Youngjae's cheek. His jawline is really, really defined. There's a delicate quality to it that makes it seem doll-like. It's nice.

"More like I'm saving you from a bad movie," Youngjae puffs, strolling along with Daehyun to the mall entrance. "You cheated," Daehyun drawls, clicking his tongue, "where's the fun in knowing how it ends?"

"It's called not wasting your money, dummy," Youngjae returns, following Daehyun anyway to the movie theatre. "Besides, today's Sunday. It'll be more expensive," he adds to drive his point home. Daehyun turns a deaf ear, striding up to the poster and gesturing at it enthusiastically. He slips out his phone and searches for the movie, casting Youngjae a scrutinising glance. "What the hell. It's rated above average. This critic even says the fear factor is through the roof. Here, _the suspense is remarkably drawn out, gradually dawning and ultimately erupting in full-blown paranoia and insanity_."

Youngjae stares blankly and heaves a huge breath. "Alice and the White Rabbit dies!"

"Oh come on!" Daehyun yells, grabbing Youngjae and shaking him. "You're an asshole. Biggest goddamn asshole of the century." Youngjae muffles back a rich laugh, eyes crinkling prettily at the sides. "Let's watch something else," Youngjae suggests, roaming up to the screentimes above the counter. Daehyun frowns before realisation hits him and he shuffles to Youngjae's side.

"You're scared," Daehyun whispers smugly into Youngjae's ear, smirk painting his cheeks. His scent is familiar, like sheets to be woken up in, and Daehyun relishes in it. Youngjae blinks hard and glares, spinning around and imitating a look of indifference. "I'm not. I'm just smart enough to value the precious little bit of money I have, while you obviously aren't."

"Prove it," Daehyun taunts, stretching his arms behind his head and arching a provoking brow. "Well, since you're scared, we can watch something else." Youngjae narrows his eyes and nonchalantly returns, "I'll watch it." He confidently walks up to the counter as Daehyun cheekily scampers behind, helping to pick their seats. They purchase some popcorn and drinks, Daehyun juggling two packets in his arms.

"Don't worry; I'll protect you," Daehyun snickers. Youngjae attempts to stomp on Daehyun's foot as the other cackles unremorsefully. Daehyun drapes an arm over Youngjae's shoulders and pulls him into the cinema. The number of moviegoers is small, a few scattered about at the back. "Youngjae," Daehyun whines, groping around in the darkness. Youngjae's profile is dimly lit but still traceable, outline sharp against the screen blaring trailers. Light scratches into Daehyun's vision and onto his face as he pulls a searching Youngjae to face him. "I'm scared," Daehyun sings teasingly, grasping onto cotton and skin.

"Shut up," Youngjae snaps back and Daehyun stifles a guffaw, crawling to his seat with Youngjae. "God, it's cold in here," Youngjae mutters as they settle down. Daehyun shrugs off one arm of his windbreaker, tossing it over Youngjae. The boy naturally slips his arm into it and they squirm up to one another when Daehyun chides him not to stretch it.

"Hey. No spoilers during the movie, okay?" Daehyun reminds, basking in Youngjae's warmth. It feels oddly like home, or perhaps Youngjae has been by his side so long his essence has become an ingrained part of Daehyun.

"The Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum supposedly died too," Youngjae deadpans. Daehyun throws his head back and groans loudly, knocking himself into Youngjae on purpose.

"I kinda liked the Cheshire Cat. He helped Alice a lot," Youngjae remarks, shifting so that Daehyun's head falls onto his shoulder. "It's sad he died because of Alice and the White Rabbit."

"Stop talking like you watched the movie, stupid," Daehyun laughs, pinching Youngjae's thigh and decidedly resting his hand there. It feels nice. Very nice, to be out of the spotlight and instead watching someone else on the big screen with Youngjae by his side. Friendship feels especially nice when it comes to Youngjae, his closest friend. "Hey, didn't Jongup and Junhong say they wanted to watch this?"

"Yeah. We should have brought them along," Youngjae returns, leaning against Daehyun. "Those two should be Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. One of the same kind. You know, they're really cute in the movie." Daehyun swats at Youngjae and puts a finger to his lips. "I came here to watch the movie, not listen to you narrate the whole thing," Daehyun scoffs. "The people behind us are gonna complain. What if we get on the news because of you?" Daehyun waves a little. " _B.A.P members Daehyun and Youngjae disrupt movie screening._ That'll be the end of our career."

"You tell me to keep quiet and here you are talking non-stop," Youngjae puffs, simmering down once the screen darkens. The gore is chilling and brutal, dismembered corpses and crimson flowing endlessly across the four corners. The merciless Queen of Hearts demands for the beheading of the foreigner Alice and the instigator for Alice's arrival, leading to a wild chase across Wonderland while their allies desperately try to help them escape. Youngjae visibly cringes everytime an irksome sound effect resounds, clenching his fists and squinting shut his eyes. It is absolutely horrific and Daehyun's clasp on Youngjae's leg tightens every once in a while out of sympathy and disgust.

"You are mad! Therefore, you must go," the Queen of Heart declares as troops surround the blonde girl, a bloodbath beneath her scarred legs and disfigured face. Between sobs, Alice cries, "I am not mad! You are mad, but you can't see that, so you think I am mad."

When the movie fades out and the lights flicker back on, Youngjae lets out a soft breath. They remain curled up against one another, watching the rolling credits and quelling the terror sitting in their nerves. "Even after you warned me, I was still hoping for a happy ending," Daehyun grumbles. "It's so sad they thought they could escape but the rabbit hole had been sealed up all the time."

"I'm sad for their friends," Youngjae sighs, still affected by the gruesome scenes. Daehyun apologetically puts a hand over Youngjae's arm, squeezing lightly. The shadow of vermillion haunts his vision and he shakes his head hard. "They died because of them two. If they'd just left them, they wouldn't have died in the explosion," Youngjae continues.

"Yeah," Daehyun huffs, rising and tugging Youngjae off his seat. "Hey, my specs should be done by now, right?" Youngjae nods and they leave the theatre, shoving the appalling shots out of their mind. Daehyun's thankful that there's the separation between what happens on screen and in reality.

They arrive back at the shop, the optician with the glasses ready on the counter. Daehyun excitedly sits, inspecting them in awe. "Try them on," Youngjae advises. Daehyun slips the spectacles onto his face, letting it sit snugly on his nose bridge. He halts in his ministrations and blinks hard, furrowing his eyebrows. Everything in sight becomes clear but is now drenched in carmine, his arms and blue jeans an eccentric tint of red.

"Huh..." Daehyun breathes in disbelief, lifting his head and gazing at the figure in front of him. His eyes fly wide open and he nearly staggers back in pure shock. The bizzare person in front of Daehyun is clearly Youngjae, but it can't be Youngjae. Youngjae does not have long, flowing hair, a bust and petite shoulders. This is not the boy who leaned against him throughout the movie just now, inaudible breaths and rise and fall of shoulders more discernible to Daehyun than it should be. This is a woman, an imposter before him wearing Youngjae's face.

"What the hell?" Daehyun shrugs off the glasses to see Youngjae's expectant look melt into concern. Instantly, with the lens removed, Youngjae reverts back to his normal, boyish form. "What's wrong?" The glasses in Daehyun's pams now visibly have red lenses and Daehyun holds it up. "Look at it."

Youngjae peers at it in attentiveness. "What's wrong with it?" Youngjae questions, searching for a fault or a crack. Baffled, Daehyun glances to the optician and puts the spectacles back on. The red tint follows incessantly, dyeing every object in view, but the optician remains unchanged. Daehyun veers his head back to Youngjae and sucks in a sharp breath to see the same female form from just now. Except the person before him is imitating Youngjae's facial expression, and when she parts her lips to speak, out flows Youngjae's smooth voice.

"Does it give you a headache?" She inclines forward and Daehyun instantaneously retreats out of hold, confusedly trying to decipher the strange distortion. "Daehyun, tell me," the woman presses in perplexity, pursing the same lips Daehyun had been staring at an hour ago. Her hair falls all the way to her shoulders and a hint of her cleavage is showing. Daehyun swallows thickly, gingerly extending a hand. He gently grazes the woman's cheek and hesitantly asks, "Y-Youngjae?"

"Um, yes?" The woman sends him a look of askance and Daehyun hastily removes the spectacles, shedding Youngjae of his queer camouflage. "Why is everything red?" He questions the optician, who stares at him as though he has grown another head. "Sorry, sir, what do you mean?" Daehyun waves the glasses in front of her, completely befuddled. "The lenses are red. And Youngjae looks like-"

"Daehyun, what are you talking about?" Youngjae interjects, jaw slackened in puzzlement. "They're totally transparent. Are you okay?" Daehyun parts his lips to speak but only manages out a choked breath, scrutinising his spectacles. He can ascertain they are blood red, fire red, apple red, yet the two in front of him questioningly glimpse at him. Daehyun passes the glasses to the optician, confounded. "Can you try this on?"

"Sir, it would be better if you told me straight what the problem is," the optician instructs, gaze turning wary. "I do not have the same degree as you. Would you prefer to do another test?" Flabbergasted and bewildered, Daehyun examines the spectacles once again, the rose-painted lenses clear for him to see. He holds it up to Youngjae and probes, "Can you really not see the red?"

"No," Youngjae firmly replies, putting a hand to Daehyun's forehead. "Are you alright, Daehyun? You're starting to worry me." His silky palm remains on Daehyun's skin and Daehyun stares back, dazed. "I- Nevermind." Daehyun removes Youngjae's hand, the contact igniting a tingle down his veins, and stands. He places the glasses back in the case and holds his head, bowing and nimbly exiting the store. It's tough to see the figures of the red man and green man on the traffic light across the street.

"Daehyun!" The bell hung by the optician's door chimes and Youngjae waves a hand, consternation written all over his face. "What's wrong?" The memory of Youngjae's female counterpart is fresh in Daehyun's mind, weaving translucent extensions down Youngjae's short hair. Daehyun frantically shakes his head and shrugs wryly, pocketing his glasses. Maroon lingers at the seams of his sight and as they walk down the pavement, through Daehyun's peripheral vision, Youngjae is much smaller and effeminate.

"Okay..." Youngjae dismisses, evidently weirded out by Daehyun's random episode. "I think you're just not used to it. You'll be fine after a while." Has Youngjae always had such a tender, affectionate voice, along with breathtaking lips? Their shoulders brush and their proximity is enthralling, lingering like desperate thoughts on regretful late nights. Daehyun decides that Youngjae looked good as a girl, but retracts the conclusion as a sense of unguardedness composes itself.

"Let's go home." Youngjae interlocks their fingers messily and leads Daehyun through the herd of featureless humans. Youngjae's anatomy is reminiscent of Daehyun's best friend but his warmth is something savoury that cannot be identified. It's unnerving. "Daehyun?"

"Yeah?" Daehyun backs out of Youngjae's grasp and the other blinks sharply, parting his lips quietly. "Are you okay? Be honest. Did the glasses make you feel giddy?" The world deliquesces behind Youngjae and suddenly, everyone begins to turn to them. Red colours Youngjae's cheeks unnaturally and his eyelashes begin to curl upwards. Daehyun holds his head as he avoids the hazy faces veered towards them, staring and gossipping.

"Um, yeah, actually," Daehyun murmurs because he doesn't know why everyone is watching them and melting at the same time. Youngjae's presence demands to be seen and felt and Daehyun retreats, setting himself by a curb. "Daehyun?" Youngjae calls again, and the name drums in Daehyun's head incessantly. Daehyun shuts his eyes and shakes away the looming thoughts when the noise vanishes like the severing of one's ear drums, except the despondent silence is intruded by a new voice.

"Mr. Jung."

Daehyun bursts open his eyes to find himself in a new room, painted an eerie shade of pure white with no merciful allowance for mistakes. Daehyun gasps, placing his hands and meeting soft fabric. He is sitting on the edge of a chesterfield chaise lounge, exquisitely imbued with blood red. "Please take a seat," the deep voice resounds from his side and he spins his head to find a man sitting in a white arm chair. His spectacles slip down his nosebridge, face obscured by his bangs and the shadow of the sun. A white coat is draped over his shoulders, reminding him of the optician from before.

"Where am I?" Daehyun asks, falling back into the chair. The psychologist, begins to scribble on his clipboard. "Therapy, Mr. Jung. As ordered by the court." Daehyun snaps his neck to face the psychologist, sparing him a questioning glance. He catches sight of orange-red sleeves and gulps, bending his head to see he's donning a set of prison uniform. His name is printed in block capitals, upside down from his view.

"What am I convicted for?" The psychologist spares him a quizzical, unreadable glance and clears his throat. "Third-degree murder, Mr. Jung. Crime of passion." Daehyun inhales piercing, grasping hard on the chilly sofa. "W-what?" The psychologist merely stares back, distance stretched in his dead pupils.

"Now, Mr. Jung." The psychologist releases a long exhale, lifting up a set of papers. The sheets are all blotted with black ink. "What do you see in this card? Please tell me the first thing you think of." Daehyun squints, making out in the jet black mess. It looks like a set of wings and gifts Daehyun with a sense of exhilaration, freedom and an idealistic belief he can accomplish anything.

"Youngjae." Daehyun widens his eyes, taken aback by his very own answer. He hastily puts his hand to his lips and the psychologist scribbles furiously, not questioning Youngjae's identity. "Sorry, I meant wings." The psychologist flutters his eyelids slowly, nonchalance written into his skin. "Mr. Jung, there is no correct answer. This is about you, so please feel free to say whatever comes to your mind. Okay," he states, "how about this one?" The psychologist raises a different piece. Daehyun scrutinises it carefully, internally reminding himself to answer properly. Daehyun interpretes this new ink blob as two people holding hands, demonstrating a beautiful unity tied together with love.

"Youngjae," Daehyun says instantly. He chokes upon realisation as the sound of lead scratching paper resumes, Daehyun shrinking back into the couch. The psychologist fingers out another sheet. "This is the last one. What do you see, Mr. Jung?" Daehyun arches his brows, staring at the paper completely stained with black. The raven colour is overwhelming, consuming and staggering, threatening to suck Daehyun into its seemingly endless abyss.

"Youngjae." Daehyun frowns at his own answer, patting his lips gruffly in punishment. The psychologist nods contentedly, placing away the flimsy papers and finishing up his writing. Daehyun leans over, catching just a bit of the writing before the psychologist covers it up.  _Repeatedly speaks of victim_.

"I'm going to ask you some questions now, Mr. Jung. Take it easy and relax; take as much time as you want to answer them." Daehyun nods stiffly as he shifts, resting his head further down and glimpsing up at the ceiling. The lamp glares down at him, stabbing at his vision.

"Are you a celebrity, Mr. Jung?" Daehyun hums in response, the lamp's glow inciting the recollections of the alluring sea of light sticks, passionate fans and Youngjae's hand intertwined with his. "How do you feel about it?"

"It's great," Daehyun decides, lips curling as he remembers Youngjae breaking out into tears backstage after their first stage. He had been tight-lipped and stoic while Daehyun had laughed crudely at him, wet warmth rolling down his own cheeks in happiness. He loves standing in front of a crowd and singing his heart out for the fans who have shaped him into who he is today. They are an indispensable part of him, and so is B.A.P who consistently stand by his side as they take their last bow for the day. Bang Yongguk, Kim Himchan, Jung Daehyun, Yoo Youngjae, Moon Jongup, Choi Junhong. "I love the fans. They're my everything. So are my bandmates."

"I see," the psychologist returns. "Youngjae," the psychologist meets Daehyun's eyes, "he is in this band of yours?" Daehyun nods enthusiastically, letting out a long ramble. "We're really close. He's the lead singer and I'm the main singer. We don't really know what's the difference but anyway, we're both in charge of singing."

"Ah," the psychologist replies, "then, have you come across hardships in your life as an idol?" Daehyun purses his lips, a flood of sour, tear-filled memories flushing through his mind. There had been a time before debut he constantly cried himself to sleep. On his debut stage, his voice had cracked in anxiety during his high note when that was precisely his forte. He had gotten into fights with the other members several times and gotten so angry he broke furniture. "Yeah, I have," Daehyun mumbles, presing his lips together in bitter nostalgia. "A lot."

"I suppose one of them would be the pressures of being a high profile figure, no?" The psychologist urges, leaning out of his seat with strangely determined eyes. Daehyun instinctively squirms away, movements subtle. "Yeah. But it's alright. Our fans are nice and we haven't really met into any sasaengs. They're very caring."

"That's one source of pressure eliminated, but how about the media?" The psychologist presses, setting aside his clipboard. Daehyun ponders on the question, grimacing and shielding his eyes from the fluorescent lamp directly above him.

"Personally," the psychologist continues, rotating his head to his shoulder, "I think celebrities are flies." Daehyun recoils in bewilderment, insulted by the remark. "They always create buzz," the psychologist blathers, "and they always garner attention. There are tons who want to bring them down: anti-fans, jealous idols, competing companies, money-driven paparazzi. They're the humans trying to swat flies with newspapers."

"You've learnt to evade these threats, right?" The psychologist smiles, biting on his nails like how Youngjae always does. Delicately, with his pinky stuck out, just the offending fingernail in his mouth. Daehyun doesn't like it when Himchan tries to stop Youngjae by grabbing Youngjae's wrist, staring intently at Youngjae's lips. It just ticks him off, probably because it's weird and Youngjae is definitely able to handle his own bad habits.

"But there's always that light you want to touch," the psychologist rattles on as Daehyun listens questioningly. "Your temptations that bring you warmth, or passion, or enthrallment, or something else. If you aren't careful," the psychologist snaps his fingers, "you'll run into a trap and be electrocuted." He draws a squiggly line down in the air, tracing the path of a fallen bug. "Meet your downfall with all these fly catchers seducing you. Or perhaps you will crave the brightness of the sun and sizzle, burn out into nothing but ashes once you touch it."

"Tell me, Daehyun. What do you think of when I say the word light?" Daehyun mulls over the question attentively, glancing up at the blazing bulb. He shuts his eyes, traces of red seeping through his eyelids and permeating through the fabricated darkness. His entire built sinks in lethargy and his cruddy fingernails scratch linen and not leather. Daehyun groggily wrests open his eyes and the view of a familiar ceiling greets him. He sluggishly props himself up, the blanket slipping to his waist as he holds his head.

"It's the first time I'm up earlier than you."

Daehyun swivels his head to face his roommate, landing his eyes on a mesmerising pair of lips. Daehyun looks up to see Youngjae grinning cheekily down, donning a button-down shirt and black jeans. He blinks away the remains of a disjointed dream and grabs his alarm clock, squinting excruciatingly.

"What the hell..." Daehyun curses, reaching over to smack Youngjae weakly on the forehead before sliding back under his covers. Youngjae gripes in irritation and Daehyun feels the bed weigh down, choking out a breath when Youngjae sits on his stomach. The sheets are heaved off Daehyun's face and the boy emits an anguished cry, placing his arm over his forehead. "Youngjae, goddamn it," Daehyun moans, slightly uncomfortable at Youngjae's behind squirming against his abdomen. "It's one in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"No." Is Youngjae mad? This is one of the rare few times they actually get to sleep at midnight and not some ungodly hour. Daehyun splutters out a banshee-like wail as Youngjae pulls away Daehyun's arm, allowing the light to trail bothersomely onto his face. "What do you want, Youngjae?" Daehyun grouses, relenting and taking a good look at Youngjae. Daehyun's wrist is in Youngjae's small palm and luminescence brims from behind Youngjae.

"Not what I want," Youngjae corrects, leaning closer. A knot tightens in Daehyun's stomach and he nearly misses Youngjae's following line. "What  _you_  want." Daehyun furrows his brows, sleepy enough to justify wanting to kiss Youngjae. A bit. Just a bit. It happens... sometimes. It's normal.

Youngjae reaches into his back pocket, squirming as he continues to straddle Daehyun. He whips out a small ticket, leading Daehyun to squint at the familiar sight. It is the special kind of ticket for KTX trains, namely from Seoul to Busan.

"When did you buy that?" Daehyun wheezes, head giddy from lack of sleep or perhaps Youngjae's position over him. "Remember that really long toilet break I took? When we were leaving practice yesterday? I ran to the station and bought it."

"You got scolded for that," Daehyun recounts quietly, to which Youngjae shrugs. He looks very breathtaking suddenly, the way his jawline merges from both ends and his eyes seem to hold all the sunlight the world can ever hope to have. Daehyun's heart scrunches up as he slowly takes the two-way ticket, inspecting something so simple with a sense of wonderment.

"Anyway, since tomorrow, we don't have a schedule, only practice," Youngjae begins rambling, frowning. Daehyun recognises the gesture; it's a habit Youngjae does when he is thinking hard or planning something. Daehyun's hands rest on Youngjae's thighs, his body over Daehyun's a form of shelter from any sort of attack. Daehyun bites his lower lip, tears pricking at his eyes as he obediently listens to Youngjae's words. He hasn't seen his parents in a long, long while. He kept quiet about it but there were a few nights where Youngjae got up to sit with him, in spite of how silent Daehyun's crying had been. 

"I'll say we snuck out for some snacks at Dongdaemun market at around six. We reached there at seven and wandered around till eight, planning to reach back by nine when our manager comes. We got separated just as we were about to go home and spent three hours looking for one another. You forgot to bring your phone and your wallet, so you can't get a train ticket home and I have to look for you. My phone ran out of battery, so you were worried and we kept searching for each other," Youngjae continues on. "It'll take you three hours to get to your home. By then, it'll be five. We have to make this look like an accident and we were totally going to come back on time, so you'll need to be back by one."

The way Youngjae talks is mystifying. He speaks like the seasons can be put into words and makes Daehyun want to sing his heart out like the nightingale who gave up her life for a red rose. "Five hours with your family isn't so bad, right?" Youngjae mumbles, biting on his fingernails. Daehyun gently guides his hand away as Youngjae grunts in annoyance, but ultimately lets Daehyun safeguard his abused hand.

"My parents will be asleep," Daehyun says, because if he tells Youngjae how thankful he is to have him, he'll cry and wake the peaceful night. Youngjae rolls his eyes, arching an eyebrow. "I'm sure your parents will wake up a couple of hours earlier to see their long lost son," he deadpans. Their voices are hushed, afraid of awaking the other members. If they do, they'll be burdened by having to lie along with them.

"It's not like you to be so... spontaeneous," Daehyun remarks. Youngjae has his impulsive moments, but he is never as careless as Daehyun is. He plans everything out by logic, deciding on which is the most optimal decision and shaving off ends he regrets afterwards when his emotions come into play.

Youngjae pulls his lips to the side, nonchalant in his reply, "I don't like seeing you sad." It sets off a scorching burn through Daehyun's body, sending his mind into pure overdrive. "Oh," Daehyun breathes, his eyes fixated on the boy above him. "But... shouldn't I go alone? Why drag you along?"

"I don't want you to get punished alone." Youngjae shrugs. "And I'm bored. I need to unleash my inner rebel." Daehyun laughs, never letting his eyes veer from Youngjae. The boy above knits his brows and makes a face. "Stop staring at me like that."

Daehyun manages out a watery smile and continues to gaze up at a disgruntled Youngjae. "What the hell does that even mean?" Daehyun scoffs, pulling Youngjae down so he can see in his eyes how exactly he's staring at him. Their noses nearly bump and Youngjae hisses, smacking Daehyun on the head. They struggle against each other, the determined glint in Youngjae's eyes contrasting Daehyun's light glow. Daehyun ends up on top of Youngjae, laughing as quietly as they can, completely defeated. Daehyun likes how their legs are tangled and Youngjae is warm like a fireplace in winter.

"Thank you," Daehyun whispers into Youngjae's ear, letting a tear crack from his swollen eyes. Youngjae sighs, churning out an irked groan. "Don't be a crybaby," Youngjae mutters, though he winds his arms around Daehyun as they remain chest to chest for a prolonged while. The night keeps quiet to complement the two boys laid intimately on the same bed, allowing the cicadas to serve as distractions on the off chance someone extends their neck all the way to the soulmates' window.

Daehyun buries his nose within the space between Youngjae's jawline and his shoulder. He inhales and Youngjae visibly stills. "We should get going," Youngjae remarks, nudging Daehyun off him with a slightly questioning and weirded out look in his eyes. Daehyun apologetically moves away, scratching the back of his head.

"Text your parents that you'll be reaching around five. You have your house keys, right?" Youngjae instructs clearly. Daehyun nods and does as told. He prominently leaves his phone on his desk, Youngjae nodding in contentment. Daehyun throws on a shirt and a pair of jeans, wasting a moment to style his hair before they tiptoe to the door.

Every creak and thump sends their heart racing, wary glances thrown at one another as they cross the suddenly lengthy distance from their room to the front door. Youngjae nearly smacks a mug off the table by accident, his arm grazing past it, but Daehyun hurriedly manages to catch it. Youngjae fumbles with the keys as the adrenaline beats down their nerves, the soft sleep talking from Himchan and Jongup's room a false bark making no bite. 

The lock clicks noisily. Youngjae squints his eyes shut, grimacing at the breakage in silence, and Daehyun gingerly pulls open the door. They wait in tense quietness, waiting to ensure they haven't woken anyone up, and slip out. Once they step into the eerie corridor, the dim lighting cast onto their slouched forms, Daehyun lets out a long breath. Youngjae glares at him, carefully locking the door, and tugs Daehyun to the stairwell.

"God, for a second there-"

Youngjae agitatedly shushes Daehyun, eyes widened as Daehyun's voice echoes down the hallway. Youngjae's hand slips from Daehyun's wrist to Daehyun's palm, grabbing tightly as they nimbly cover every flight. One step, two step, three step. Daehyun is careful not to trip and send them both stumbling, igniting a ruckus to scare the sun into awakening. One step forward towards Daehyun's freedom and the faces of his family, two steps back into hell once they return. Youngjae has nothing to gain out of this.

They stop at the door to the basement lobby. Daehyun stops Youngjae's outstretched arm. "You should go back. I can go alone," Daehyun breathes, pulling Youngjae into an embrace. He hugs tight, so tightly Youngjae chokes a little and squeaks to be let go. His scent is enthralling and even though they're starkly different, it still reminds him of the beaches back in Busan and his dusty room at home.

Youngjae makes a face, moving back at their close proximity. "I want to go," Youngjae retorts, reaching for the door handle. Daehyuns stops him again. "I don't want you to get into trouble. What are you going to do outside? You'll have to wait hours outside since we're supposed to be out at Dongdaemun together." He guides Youngjae's hand away, urging him back up the staircase. "Go back. I'll say I went out to eat and got lost."

"That story's so unbelievable. You got lost without your phone and wallet?" Youngjae snorts. "You need me, in the story. I have to be there so it's believable that you not just stupidly have no means of communication, but also," Youngjae dangles out his wallet, "survival. Which idiot would go out like that unless he had someone to depend on?"

"But-"

"It won't work without me, Daehyun," Youngjae emphasises. "We looked for each other; that's we took up so much time outside. If you were out on your own without your phone or wallet, you couldn't have gotten far in the first place. Even if you said you had money but ran out of cash at Dongdaemun, no one would believe you couldn't borrow some money to call our manager to come get you. It was because I was missing and my phone was dead so you couldn't leave, out of worry that I was searching for you and didn't go home straight."

The manner in which Youngjae talks is truly quite beautiful, Daehyun thinks. He says his plan as systematically as possible, explaining bits and parts with concentration. It's an undeniable aspect of Youngjae to speak so fluently, pondering hard and letting the creases beneath his eyes emerge from his deep thinking.

"I'll be at Dongdaemun to call our manager using a public phone and tell him what happened. He'll probably ask me to go back and wait for you to come back, so the latest I'll be out will be till ten. All you have to do when you come back is say that you were looking for me. If our manager asks why you didn't borrow money to phone home, just tell him that you knew if you did, hyung would tell you to go home and wouldn't let you search for me."

"That is what you'll do, anyway, if we were in that situation," Youngjae mumbles. "You wouldn't go home, like an idiot."

Daehyun clicks his tongue, lightly shoving Youngjae back. "Why would he believe we were in Dongdaemun, anyway?" Daehyun questions, adoring Youngjae's button nose and suppressing the eccentric urge to kiss it.

"See, you really are stupid," Youngjae deadpans. "I'll go buy something with Dongdaemun on the packaging. Besides, there'll be the phone code when I call our manager." Youngjae has always been intelligent, quick-witted and innovative. It sends a thrill up Daehyun's nerves and he wants to tell Youngjae how attractive he is; how can Youngjae worry he won't find a wife in the future?

"Seriously, Daehyun. I said I want to go," Youngjae repeats determinedly, swatting away Daehyun's hand. His expression softens and deliquesces every tangible thing in the universe into mere colours and bristling sensations. "You know what will happen if they find out you went to see your family. Remember what happened to Yongguk-hyung?" Youngjae's voice drops to a forlorn whisper. "I don't want you to be banned from visiting your parents."

"Come on. Don't waste any more time," Youngjae says. The stars shatter to sting Daehyun's eyes, pricking hard so he'll lose his sight—as a preventive measure from his growing inclination towards Youngjae. Youngjae moves to open the door. Daehyun swallows, his throat dry and painful, and parts his lips. "I-"

Youngjae stops in response, peering up at Daehyun. Daehyun fumbles over his words, his heart crushing up his throat and bleeding incoherency. Why is it so hard to say something like this? He tells Junhong he loves him all the time and pinches his cheeks, much to the youngest's irk. Why are the words so heavy like they're bound to drag him down through the ocean? Because they have so much more weight this time round? "I... I lov-"

"Ew," Youngjae cuts him off, making the most aghast face possible. "Please don't. That is very gross." Youngjae chuckles, pulling a teary-eyed Daehyun out the building as sneakily as possible.

Youngjae flags for a cab to Seoul station, and as they get in, Daehyun envisions a different scenario. The lights of midnight Seoul splash lavishly against the windscreen and paints a complementary background to Youngjae. The city limits draw an outline around Youngjae's profile and Daehyun thinks of himself as a traveller exploring the outskirts of a country so beautiful. The radio murmurs a talk show, toned down, and Daehyun wonders if the boy beside him who he spent years with could be a stranger. Perhaps it was late and Daehyun offered to take a cab together with this man after a long day of work, and Daehyun wonders what exactly could sprout from a meeting like this.

Isn't this how romance novels begin?

"Stop staring at me," Youngjae groans, slapping a hand to Daehyun's face. His eyes shimmer with the millions of colours trickling past and Daehyun catches his own spellbound reflection in the window.

"I know you're grateful and all, but cut it out. It's creeping me out." Youngjae looks like he ate something sour, lips crumpled and eyes blinking sharply. Daehyun uses it as an excuse to placate his own misgivings. "I am grateful," he says, shifting closer.

"Who wouldn't be? I'm amazing," Youngjae cheers, patting himself on the chest. Daehyun wants to replace their hands for that split second. "Where are you going to go?" Daehyun asks quietly.

"Sightseeing." Youngjae leans out and glances through the window, sighing dreamily. "I've always wanted to see Seoul at its darkest hours. It's pretty, isn't it?" Youngjae prods his short finger at the stoplights they whoosh past, asphalt blurring along with neon. Daehyun looks hard at Youngjae. "Yeah. It is."

"You shouldn't be wandering out at night like that," Daehyun chides, guilt clawing through his body. Youngjae could be sleeping right now. He could be resting after their exhausting concert yesterday, having rushed from one side of the world to the other, but he's here with his dark eye circles and sore eyes trying to craft happiness for Daehyun.

"What am I? Twelve? I'm legal, Daehyun," Youngjae mentions. "I'm going to go clubbing. Visit a massage parlour," he snickers, earning a jab from Daehyun. Youngjae's eyes shimmer with a glow too breathtaking to capture. "You should come with me," Daehyun pipes up at the thought, resting his hand on Youngjae's thigh.

"There's no way I'm going to intrude on your parent-child bonding time. I already wasted so much money on that one ticket, anyway," Youngjae mutters, crossing his arms. Daehyun remorsefully squeezes Youngjae's leg, pulling Youngjae's head to lay on his shoulder. The boy complains a little but Daehyun adamantly presses Youngjae down. His hair smells awfully nice. "I'll pay you back once I get home. I'll treat you to dinner. A whole month's worth of dinners."

"You better, Jung Daehyun," Youngjae laughs, allowing himself to relax in Daehyun's grasp. The taxi driver glances back in the rearview mirror, gaze going as fast as Daehyun catches it. Daehyun and Youngjae remain against each other, Daehyun stroking Youngjae's leg. He unconsciously runs his hand too high up till his wrist grazes Youngjae's hip bone. Thankfully, Youngjae has fallen asleep, head lolling off Daehyun's shoulder every once in a while and Daehyun prodding him tenderly back into place.

Even though they're in a taxi going miles away from the dorms, and a hundred times that towards Busan, it feels like home. Against the ebony cushions, Daehyun feels escape for the first time in its proper form and Youngjae is here to cement it into liberation.

They arrive in fifteen minutes and Daehyun wonders if it'll be better to just sit here in the car with Youngjae asleep on his shoulder. However, Youngjae blearily opens his eyes and hauls himself off, blindly grabbing the door handle and getting out. The car whooshes away the moment Daehyun steps onto ebony, taillights scampering away.

The station is devoid of any living souls, aside from the blurry train staff. "Last train from Seoul to Busan arriving!" A warden yells from the platform as Daehyun and Youngjae pad up the stairs. Their hands are interlocked; Daehyun initiated it while Youngjae is squirming. Daehyun ignores it as Youngjae isn't really fond of skinship, while skin contact to Daehyun has always been common since he was young, an integral sign of a tight-knitted friendship. It means nothing else.

"I guess this is goodbye." They walk towards the platform edge. Youngjae quizzically peers at Daehyun, chuckling. "You're saying it like we're never going to see each other again."

Daehyun shrugs. He twines his arms around Youngjae, burying his nose within the nook of his neck. Youngjae stills in Daehyun's grasp, though he gingerly hugs back. The quiet rattling of tracks from afar chains them together as Daehyun inhales, exhales, inhales the essence of sweet life support amid bleach and calculating doctors, exhales the remnants of bloody cotton and torn-off bandages.

"Uh, that's enough PDA for tonight..." Youngjae mumbles, grip loosening after a few seconds. Daehyun retains his hold, folding his lips and nuzzling his head further into Youngjae's skin. He mouths the words that have been brimming on his lips for a while now, a crater teetering on the edge of a cliff ready to collapse and kill the man sitting beneath in the shade.

"I love you," Daehyun says it naturally, easily, smoothly like the words are meant to tattoo themselves around Youngjae's neck tighter and tighter.

"Hey, you two! Please stand behind the yellow line!" 

The warden's shout breaks them apart. Youngjae's hands abruptly clasp around Daehyun's shirt and he pushes Daehyun away, letting out a quiet breath as he moves aside. They stare at the platform's edge, reading the warning in block capitals repeated on the tiles. DO NOT CROSS THIS LINE. 

For a moment, the floor dissolves into flickering shutters, blinding flashes and the hoarding of microphones. The mirage vanishes and all of a sudden, Youngjae pulls his lips to the side, darting his eyes away impassively. The brightness in his face is ripped from him and it leaves a cold-cutting apathy in place.

"Don't say things you don't mean." The words are a haunting echo, and it strangles every bit of Daehyun's breath out. This was not what happened. This was not what Youngjae said. This memory... it isn't accurate. Yet, they are oddly familiar because they came from Daehyun's lips.

The train barrels into the station, rushing past and ruffling their hair into a complete mess. The doors slide open smoothly and Daehyun continues to face Youngjae. The transition from his frigid, almost bitter expression back to his original worn-out but contented mood is distracting. Youngjae seems to barely acknowledge the heavy, enigmatic words he had just spoken, smiling encouragingly at Daehyun.

"Go in, you idiot." Youngjae shoves Daehyun into the carriage, but Daehyun catches him before he can stumble fully in. Youngjae remains at the platform's edge, their shoes meeting at the treacherous gap. Daehyun wants to erase the eye circles above Youngjae's cheeks, grab his hand and run. Escape from that hellhole of no contact with their family and friends, where the six of them only have each other. It's sad that they are living their dreams in a cage.

Youngjae looks peculiarly beautiful under the jarring lighting of the train station, blended with the more yellowish lamps in the train. The world bleeds into just the two of them, Youngjae's lips imprisoning Daehyun's worries despite them choking up Youngjae's airway. Melodies of every single kind from long-time ballads to classical music floods Daehyun's mind as he grasps Youngjae and pulls him close.

Too close. Daehyun angles his head to meet Youngjae's lips, clutching at the other boy's shirt. Youngjae tastes of seawater and fire, a sprinkle of cellar-like love and drunken death. A strident beeping noise pulls them apart as Daehyun breathes shallowly, Youngjae's eyes wide and expression flabbergasted. The door slices through them, Youngjae still staring in stupefaction. A trace of trauma stabs into his enlarged irises as he remains rooted to the ground. The warden comes over and tugs Youngjae back from the platform gap, but Youngjae persists in his gaping.

The train begins to rattle out of the station. Youngjae's eyes are continuously fixated on Daehyun's form by the window, parted lips devoid of any words. Daehyun reflects Youngjae's action, standing motionlessly as an eerie silence clouds his mind. 

_What did I just do?_

He had done it because... because... he wanted to? He... just suddenly felt like it. It was the spur of the moment. But why did he have the urge to kiss Youngjae, his boy best friend?

Daehyun clasps his ticket as he wobbles to his seat, gaze unfocused. What the fuck did he just do? What in god's name did he kiss Youngjae for? 

But Youngjae kisses Junhong all the time. No one says anything about it, except joke that Youngjae has pedophilic tendencies.

But Youngjae does it on the cheek. And sometimes, Daehyun doesn't like it very much. He laughs and pushes the two apart, feigning a hurl and ignoring the ruffling nip under his skin.

So? Daehyun and Youngjae are closer to one another than to anyone else in the group. A kiss on the lips is just an expression of passionate friendship. Daehyun had been overwhelmed by gratitude and he didn't think a hug would suffice, so he kissed Youngjae out of indebtedness and brotherly kinship. That's all. It's nothing to get worked up over.

Then why are his hands shaking?

Daehyun flings himself down onto his seat, sinking into the woolly cushion and shutting his eyes. The radiant light above demands to be let into his pupils, clawing through his eyelids and oozing a reddish, evening-like hue. He can't say sorry to Youngjae, or try to explain himself and clear up the misunderstanding (how, though?) since his phone is back in the dorms. Daehyun calms his beating heart, blanking out every thought within his head to leave only the sound of his breathing. 

The light grows hotter on his skin, beginning to burn like faces buried in charcoal. Suddenly, Daehyun falls back into his chair as the back vanishes into non-matter and darkness. Daehyun's back hits something soft, posture completely horizontal to the ground. He splits open his eyes and shoots up, instantly shielding his face as light rips him into consciousness. The chirping of sparrows stream into the room along with sunlight, warming linens and the slender figure beside Daehyun.

The remnants of his dream crumble into nothing but undecipherable debris, the downfall tragic and invoking eulogies. Daehyun grasps hard on the thin material between his fingers, placating his erratic breathing as he turns over to his wife.

It's just a nightmare. Daehyun deliquesces into a soft smile as he lets go of the piece of his spouse's gown within his clasp, reaching over to weave a hand through the woman's hair. She awakens from her slumber, yawning moonlight from her small mouth.

"Daehyun?" She catches the hand messing up her long locks, laughing sweetly. Daehyun bends down to lock their lips, taste of morning and sourness tangling between marriage and unification. "Youngjae," Daehyun coos, nuzzling their noses as the female nudges him away with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep while waiting up for you," Youngjae whispers, gently squeezing Daehyun's arm. Daehyun draws circles into her cheek, smiling lightly. "I had to carry you all the way to our room. My arms are sore now."

"Are you saying I'm heavy?" Youngjae huffs jokingly, prodding Daehyun with her foot. "More like you're not as buff as you used to be." Youngjae sits up, sliding to the edge of the bed. She sways her hair over her shoulder as Daehyun whines, grabbing her back into his hold. "I still can do as many bench presses as back in college."

"Your flab disagrees," Youngjae teases, pinching her husband's stomach. She attempts to slip out of Daehyun's embrace but the man locks his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. He runs his hand down her curves to her thigh, stroking it delicately. Youngjae guides Daehyun's face towards her, linking their lips as Daehyun tightens his hold.

"Your breath stinks," Youngjae remarks, untangling Daehyun's interlocked fingers and escaping from his hold. "Go wash up. I'll make breakfast." Daehyun obediently nods as Youngjae strolls out of the room, small hips swaying from one side to the other. Daehyun trudges into the bathroom, blinding grabbing at his toothbrush and performing his daily ablutions. He gruffly wipes his face on his shirt, heading to the dining room.

The scent of scrambled eggs and toast swarm the room as Daehyun picks up today's newspaper from the doorstep. He settles in a chair and watches Youngjae for a moment, the pretty woman roaming about the kitchen, before flipping the papers open. Headlines in bold and large text uniformly stamp across the papers.  _Jung Daehyun pleads guilty to murdering bandmate Yoo Youngjae._

Youngjae leans over as she places down a plate of sausages and eggs on the table. "It's sad," Youngjae sighs, "I really liked their music." She ambles back to the kitchen, bringing over some coffee and bread. "I wonder why he did it."

Daehyun squints at the text, skimming through it quickly. "Woah. Apparently, he killed him out of love." Daehyun grimaces wryly, stunned.

"Fought over a girl, huh?" Youngjae muses. Daehyun shakes his head. "Says here he loved him, but couldn't have him, so he kidnapped and murdered him." Youngjae blinks in surprise, following Daehyun's finger to the line in question. "How shocking..."

"It's so dark. The band definitely can't go on after this," Youngjae wheezes, sitting beside Daehyun and slipping the papers out of his hands. She folds them and plops them onto the counter. "Anyway, do you have to go to work today? You came home so late last night."

Daehyun digs into his food, chomping noisly as Youngjae carresses his eye circles. Daehyun leans into Youngjae's touch, nestling his cheek against Youngjae's short finger. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry. But hey," Daehyun chimes, "we have our weekend trip to Jeju."

Youngjae begins cheering, Daehyun fondly gazing at her adorable behaviour. "Himchan-oppa is going to be so jealous once he hears about it. He said he wanted to go to the Jeongbang waterfall," Youngjae chuckles. Daehyun pouts, nudging Youngjae under the table gently. "You shouldn't talk to Himchan-hyung so much, especially when I'm not around."

"He's married, Daehyun. I'm married," Youngjae giggles. Daehyun continues sulking, propping his face up against the table. "All the more you two shouldn't hang out so much. It feels like you guys are dating. When was the last time we went on a date?"

"We live together, Daehyun. Aren't we dating right now?" Youngjae teases, crossing her arms across the table. Daehyun whines, "It's not counted."

"Baby," Youngjae laughs, nudging Daehyun in the shin. "Hey, shouldn't I call you out for always eating with that secretary? Yongguk-sshi?" As Daehyun chokes, Youngjae guffaws even harder. "You told me you used to go for the artsy types in high school." Daehyun continues to gape as Youngjae slyly points to the painting hung on the wall. "She got us a replica of that art piece Danaë." 

"She's just a friend!" Daehyun adamantly protests. "I stay around her because the guys keep hounding her. It's because of you! I imagine you in her shoes, all pretty and getting harrassed at work, and so I protect her because I don't want to see that happen to you."

"Daehyun, I work at a kindergarten. I don't think the kids would harrass me in that way," Youngjae chuckles. She raises a brow jokingly. "So you admit she's pretty?" Daehyun splutters hard, eyes wide as he rushes to clarify himself. Youngjae slaps him across the head gently. "Eat your breakfast, idiot."

Daehyun obediently acquiesces, wolfing down his meal. "Oh right. Junhong's having a baby shower next Sunday," Daehyun announces, missing the way Youngjae's fingers clench slightly.

"Oh." Daehyun continues swallowing down his food. He blathers through bites, "That retard won't shut up about his daughter at work. Says she has her mother's eye smile or whatever. I better block him from my KakaoStory feed; he sounds like the kind of parent who spams updates about his kid."

"So, are we going?" Daehyun asks, lifting his head to meet Youngjae's averted gaze. He instantly stills, remorse clawing through his sinews. God, how could he have been so careless?

"Youngjae," Daehyun drops his volume and reaches out for his wife's hand. She retracts her arms on the table, churning out a smile. "Yeah. I'm free. You're free too, right?" She hums, leaning back into the chair and further away from Daehyun's grasp. "We should get some baby clothes from Jeju."

"We don't have to go," Daehyun blurts, cringing upon realising how stupid the remark is. Youngjae veers her gaze towards Daehyun, creases forming between her brows.

"Why not?" Though casual, within her tone lays a trace of interrogation. "You're busy?"

"...Yeah," Daehyun lies. Youngjae spares him a cutting, knowing glance before sighing, getting up and walking to the counter. She retrieves several bottles and packets of medicine, pouring herself a glass of water. Daehyun watches in agony as Youngjae forces the handful of pills down her throat, swallowing them all down in one gulp and coughing.

"I want to see how his newborn looks like," Youngjae beams, lips stretching unnaturally into her soft cheeks. Youngjae remains by the counter, busying herself with sorting out the blister packs. She drops several of them and unsteadily fingers them back into her palm, seemingly prolonging her efforts. "She must be very pretty if she has Jongup's eye smile. That woman lights up the room just by her smile alone."

Daehyun rises, striding over to Youngjae's side. He twines his arms around her waist, nuzzling his nose into her hair. She lowers her head, body shaking slightly as she struggles to keep her tears at bay.

"You'd be the kind of father to ramble all about his child, too," Youngjae laughs, patting her wet eyes. Daehyun gently sways her from side to side, stroking her tummy soothingly. "Thinking of you flooding your Instagram with photos... it's funny." She chortles again, more strained and cracked than before.

"Have you thought about what I said?" Daehyun quietly asks, grip firm around Youngjae's hips. "If we apply to adopt now, the most we'll have to wait is a year."

Youngjae wryly smiles, rubbing her eyes harder. Daehyun presses her into his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair. "You know your mother won't be pleased," Youngjae softly comments, placing a hand over Daehyun's palms on her abdomen.

"What matters is if you are happy," Daehyun convinces. They remain in this position for a long while, Youngjae letting out weak breaths as she calms her brewing cries.

"I'm sorry," Youngjae whispers, her trembling tone igniting agony in Daehyun. "I'm such a failure, aren't I? I'm not a woman." She clutches the fertility pills trapped in plastic. Daehyun has seen her choke down tablets of fabricated hypocrisy and suffer injections of you-aren't-what-you're-supposed-to-be just to transform herself into the life-giving woman she always has been.

"Youngjae-"

Daehyun wants to reassure Youngjae that she is the best thing that's ever happened to him, the other half of his soul he always believed he would find, someone he would love endlessly whether or not she came in the form of a woman a decade older or someone handicapped. Youngjae is Youngjae, regardless of what shape, size and type she is.

But Youngjae cuts him off before he can placate her self-doubts and invalidation. "The doctor said my body is responding well to treatment," Youngjae states. Daehyun recalls sitting in the corner anxiously while Youngjae laid on the bed, like shrapnel carved into his mind. He had never seen Youngjae so hopeful and yet fearful at the same time, the combination crushing into tiptoes on tightropes and the jump towards happiness as treacherous as the fall to despondency.

"We'll have a baby soon," Daehyun whispers, nuzzling his nose into his wife's neck. "Even if we don't, you know it doesn't make you any less of the amazing person you are." 

"I love you," Youngjae whispers, guiding Daehyun's cheek to her lips. "You should go shower. You'll be late for work."

"Bathe with me." Daehyun nestles his lips behind Youngjae's ear, nipping lightly. His wife smacks him, shaking her head. Daehyun whimpers loudly, acting like a toddler demanding for candy.

"You're already thirty yet you act like a child." Youngjae clicks her tongue, Daehyun persisting as he juts out his lips and puts on his best pair of puppy eyes. Youngjae carresses down his jawline, relenting with a grin.

"Fine. You go in first. I need to go water our neighbour's plants." Daehyun lets out a celebratory bellow in response, inciting a sweet laugh from Youngjae. They kiss and Daehyun pulls away, skipping to the toilet. He sheds his clothes, turning on the shower. As the water turns hot, Daehyun steps into the shower, sighing in relief as the liquid hits his body. He shuts his eyes, relaxing his tense muscles and relishing in the comforting warmth.

He smiles as he imagines Youngjae's curves arched against his chest, Daehyun pinning the woman against the glass wall as they make ferverish contact. It's a dream to have Youngjae by his side. He honestly wonders how he'd been lucky enough to be chosen out of the countless suitors who chased after Youngjae, Himchan included.

Suddenly, the water spurting out of the shower head becomes unnervingly cold. Daehyun clasps blindly outwards for the faucet, and his hands grip through several holes. Fatigue grapples at his limbs and Daehyun snaps open his eyes.

The dusk submerges Daehyun into visionless navigation, just barely making out the barbed wire fence at the tip of his nose. His entire self is drenched in cold rain and filthy sweat, dirt trails tattooed into his arms and neck. Remnants of dried blood decorated his limbs, pain permeating all his senses. Ache screams so loud he almost can't hear his own name but something else shrieks so ear-piercingly it commands all attention from Daehyun.

The night is freezing. Daehyun shudders as the wind pierces through his tattered army uniform, roughly wiping the snot running down his stubble. In his right hand is a wire cutter and the sliced wire scratches Daehyun's left palm. He instinctively cuts off the last few wires and manages to make a hole just barely big enough to fit him.

Daehyun is running out of time. He needs to get to the other side. Youngjae is there. Youngjae, his comrade, the boy he shares his bunk with along with thirty other men, the one who sneaks out with him to the field so they can peek past the walls of the barracks and dream of a future.

They had met because of unfortunate fate. Both of them had to enlist in the military as their country fell into war, and they left behind family, friends and loved ones to put their lives on the line for a ridiculous dictator swearing mutiny with soldiers as chess pieces. That disgusting man would never know what it's like to live knowing you may not make it through the day—without any last words to the people waiting at home for you, praying day and night for your return.

Through snapping sinews and silent sobbing, hoarse hollers and hopeless havens, Youngjae had been there for him. They were the youngest out of the lot at that time because of the army's poor organisational skills; certain platoons had an exceedingly high number of older men while others housed those just barely legal to fight in war.

They had automatically found one another's faces in the congregation of their platoon, waiting for the introductions and first orders. Daehyun's face had been mashed up in pure bitterness, rancorous rage teeming on the fact that he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to his grandmother before he was taken away. Youngjae had walked up to him, since he was the only other teenager there.

They didn't exchange a single word for their first day, sent barrelling through mud trenches and bark scraping fresh blood in their smooth, innocent legs. Daehyun fumed for those twenty four hours, holding back vengeful, irascible tears, while Youngjae respectfully kept quiet.

It was natural that they became inseparable; they had no choice, really. The older men picked on them, though not as much when it came to Daehyun since the boy always looked on the verge of cracking and starting a massacre. Youngjae was more quiet and subdued, so he often bore the brunt of crude sexual taunts, especially with his porcelain-like features.

Daehyun often snapped and vented his anger on Youngjae, cursing every goddamn thing in a fifty mile radius for his cruel fate. He had only asked his girlfriend out two weeks before he received his draft notice. Youngjae simply accepted Daehyun's menacing rants and demeaning insults, letting Daehyun wallow in the rage from injustice everyone in the army was subjected to.

Daehyun realised how much of an asshole he was when Youngjae broke three months in. While Daehyun left his mother behind in the hands of his capable older sister, Youngjae's ailing mother had no one else but Youngjae. Daehyun had been too busy focusing on his misery to realise Youngjae was in a far worse position than him.

That was why Youngjae wrote letters constantly, every night without fail, no matter how gruelling their training had been and everyone threw themselves onto the bed, exhausted. That was why he visited the military's post office constantly during his breaks, despite the fact that the clerk repeatedly told him the next batch of letters from home would only come a month later.

Youngjae had been suffering silently, and even as he cried that day, tears flowing endlessly for a good hour, he made not a single noise. That day, one of the elders ran his hand up Youngjae's thigh and told him he would make him feel all better. Daehyun ended up with a black eye, a broken arm and a dislocated jaw, but he inflicted much worse onto that man despite a fight of three on one. 

The mocking tripled in abundance after that, but their bunkmates steered clear of them two. Daehyun had fought like a mad man drunk on full-blown insanity; he had deliriously clawed, bitten and dug at whatever he could when he was held down. No one wanted to be temporarily blinded and have their cheek ripped through with just Daehyun's persistent, maniacal fingers, so they left both Youngjae and him alone.

Punishment had been backbreaking, but even so, Daehyun returned to his bunk feeling glad for the first time since he stepped into this hellhole. Youngjae had leaned over and squeezed his hand, thanking him inaudibly as the sergeants made their rounds.

The downpour beats down heavier on Daehyun. The memory of Youngjae's comforting touch remains on his dishevelled hair as Daehyun scouts the area, hurriedly clambering through the hole. He presses his back into the perimeter of the walls, staying silent and listening hard for any noises. The night is dead quiet, dawn bleeding in like the whispers of Youngjae's hopes and dreams.  _I always wanted to be a soccer player._

 _Lame._ Youngjae had laughed in response, outline of his battered face captivating against the moonlight. Daehyun still thinks of his girlfriend, sometimes, but recently, he's been dreaming more of meeting Youngjae in a different world. Maybe they'd be classmates in college and hit off instantly. Or they could be long-time neighbours, best buddies since days of scraped knees and high-pitched wails. Even being colleagues would be nice. Why did he have to meet Youngjae in a time so wretched and dreary?

Daehyun's heart pounds in his ears. It vaguely rings of the sirens blaring through their camp, sounding so loud it convulses his bloodstream. Stillness has never been so deadly, even when Daehyun inwardly cringes at defeaning gunshots.

The searchlights grazes the circumference in a never-ending semicircular motion. Daehyun stays close to the wall as rain pricks his eyes, attempting to stop him. His destination is half a mile away, the distance required to cross daunting. He can barely make out Youngjae's figure against the rickety train tracks.

Daehyun squints harder as trepidation and hysteria ruptures his sanity. He can't tell if Youngjae is breathing from here. Did they beat him too hard? Is he still alive? Youngjae can't die. He can't. He can't leave Daehyun alone. What would Daehyun do without him?

No, no, no. Daehyun quickens his steps, nimbly avoiding the lights trailing the corners. He can see a few guards by the ends of the war zone. Daehyun crouches, crawling determinedly as his eyes sting. His wounds reopen as his body drags across cement, but Daehyun continues forth with his stare set on the lump over the rusty tracks.

One step, two step, three step. Daehyun gingerly remains obscured, camouflage blending into the despairing walls. It feels like an eternity as he makes his way across, the grim reaper his shadow threatening to ebb away an ounce of life for every minute Daehyun wastes. Panic grips Daehyun as he lugs himself further, further, and further, till the nails of the train tracks finally come into sight. Youngjae lays there inert, bound tightly by rope to his execution site. Daehyun forgets the invisibility he is supposed to uphold as he catches a brief glimpse of Youngjae's soulless, open eyes, and staggers over.

Youngjae barely raises his head, the look of resignation eliciting tears from Daehyun. His previously pale body is showered in lacerations, hair doused with the merciless rain. Red leaks all over his face, disfiguring the beautiful man Daehyun never once admitted he stares at in the showers. Part of Youngjae's ankle is jutting out so cruelly in the opposite direction Daehyun wonders why the skin bothers to cover it. How fucking, _fucking_ cruel for them to have Youngjae endure so much torment, before getting run over by a train of ten thousand tonnes.

Daehyun lunges for Youngjae's feet, the contact not even jolting Youngjae in the least bit. "Youngjae," Daehyun blurts airily, collapsing onto the ground from weariness and picking himself up again. Youngjae widens his eyes, spending a moment staring at the sky as though trying to tell if the call had just been from his sweet dreams, and looks down when Daehyun clumsily tugs out the wire cutter.

Adrenaline races through Daehyun as he snips at the wire, hands trembling and eyes darting around ferociously. "D-Daehyun?" Youngjae wheezes, voice so weak it barely conveys the utter disbelief etched into his bleeding face. "Daehyun, g-go back," Youngjae hacks, phlegm wrecking his vocal chords, "are you fucking crazy? Oh my fucking god." Youngjae begins to pant heavily, eyes widened hysterically. "Go back, Daehyun; t-they're going to catch you and _kill_ -" Youngjae sucks in a breath, even that mere sentence straining his lungs. He cranes his neck desperately, looking out for the soldiers on patrol. 

"We're going to make it," Daehyun reassures, more to himself because he shakes when Youngjae shuts his eyes and stops breathing for a split moment. "We're going to fucking make it, Youngjae," Daehyun whispers wildly. The snap of tight ropes alleviates his terror as he moves to Youngjae's body, slipping through the suffocating, make-shift clothes woven out of nylon.

"Daehyun, you're going to _die_ if you don't go back now," Youngjae breathes, the frenzy so maiming Youngjae tears up. "Go back, Daehyun, please. I'm begging you. I... I got caught, so be it. Please just go..." Despite the almost unhearable volume of their voices, emotion writhes through Youngjae's every syllable.

"I'm not leaving you behind," Daehyun hisses, chopping through the ropes up Youngjae's torso. Just a few more rounds to freedom. They can make it. They can make it. Daehyun just needs to carry Youngjae back. It's fine. They'll make it.

"Daehyun, go, please. Just... take care of my mother for me. Please."

"I'm not leaving you behind, Youngjae," Daehyun seethes. "I swore I'd protect you. I'm not fucking going back on my words. You'll protect your mother yourself. Stop being such a wimp."

"Daehyun, are... are you a fucking idiot?" Youngjae gasps through choked breaths, cocking his head back in agony as the metal cutter grazes his stomach wound. "If they catch you-"

"Just shut up and save your breaths," Daehyun orders, slicing through more circles of rope. Youngjae's face is scrunched up in pure agony, guilt and remorse, the concoction so grievous Daehyun's eyes start to water. The cutters are slippery due to the storm and Daehyun nearly lets go of it by accident.

"D-Daehyun," Youngjae chokes, sobs weak and trembling. "Why... why did you come back for me? God, you're... you're so fucking stupid..."

"Shut up, Youngjae," Daehyun hisses, because Youngjae's quivering voice and shining vulnerability is so stark in the moonlight and it makes Daehyun wish he could take him away to a place where he'll never cry again—something Daehyun knows is impossible.

"I don't want," Youngjae grapples for breath, heaving erratically, "I don't want you to die, Daehyun..."

"I'm not going to, okay?" Daehyun exhales, relief breeding in his nauseous throat as he cuts the last of the rope. "I'm not going to. Stop fucking crying, Youngjae," Daehyun croaks. Youngjae has never cried out loud before. While Daehyun wailed furiously, shrieked irately and violently bashed things, Youngjae thinned his lips and let his tears roll silently without a single slip of a word.

"Daehyun, you can't-"

"I'm not going to die, Youngjae," Daehyun soothes, dropping his tone as he heaves Youngjae up from the metallic tracks. He briefly glances down the long row extending all the way to the city, devoid of any vehicles and souls, and stares comfortingly into Youngjae's eyes. Daehyun wastes a second wiping the mix of blood, mucus, rain and tears down Youngjae's cheeks and earnestly holds him. "I won't die."

"Let's get you out of here," Daehyun whispers, hauling Youngjae more steadily to his feet. He is about to turn Youngjae around and drape his injured arm over himself when a booming bellow reverberates through the quiet grounds. Before Daehyun can even open his mouth to tell Youngjae they'll be okay, something sharp and relentless pierces through his throat.

Time stops. Youngjae gawks in absolute hysteria as Daehyun's grip loosens, eyes rolling back. The arrowhead embedded into his throat juts out disgustingly through his adam's apple, glistening in the moonlight. More shots begin to rain down on Daehyun's back as he shields Youngjae from the storm of ammunition, razor-sharp stings tearing through his muscles and organs. 

"D-Daehyun," Youngjae chokes out, lips parted and entire body shaking recklessly. He grabs onto Daehyun with all his strength, fingers desperately at the man spurting out blood. He deliriously tries to heave the man away as the gunfire ceases, commands yelled from light up offices. "Daehyun," Youngjae repeats, distraught wrecking his tearful eyes. Daehyun falls forward into Youngjae's feeble hold, drenching the other boy in blood. His lifeless, rolled back irises stare up forlornly at the endless, free sky before falling shut and Youngjae screams.

_"Daehyun!"_

The world is pitch black. Daehyun's forehead hits concrete and he feels wetness between his eyebrows. He barely manages to open his eyes, coming face to face with his bully as his vision clears. The blood from his injury drips onto his high school uniform, first button popped out from the perpetrator's brutality. They are in the corner of the school campus, far, far away from the staff room.

"You faggot." Daehyun is heaved into the air as the boy grips his collar, Daehyun spluttering for breath. Youngwon continues to strangle Daehyun, his malevolent friends snickering by the side and keeping watch for any teachers.

"Stare at my brother again, will you?" Youngwon flings Daehyun against the locker, blunt paint wrangling Daehyun's head. "I didn't," Daehyun stammers out a lie, earning himself a kick in the guts. The hallways are silent, some students passing past quickly in order to avoid getting involved. It is a common occurrence anyway.

"I saw you fucking staring during lunch, you bastard," Youngwon spits, saliva splattering onto Daehyun's face. Daehyun averts his gaze. He had indeed been staring at Youngjae during break. Daehyun knows not to, but Youngjae had been laughing like happiness was something he had created with his own bare hands. Happiness, something only that breathtaking boy can ever give to Daehyun... no matter how many beatings and taunts Daehyun has to endure.

Yoo Youngjae. He studies in the same year as Daehyun, three classes above Daehyun, and is the rough Yoo Youngwon's brother. He is the chairman of the school's famed choir and has a senior girlfriend named Han Sunhwa. He has lovely large eyes, a small face and heart-shaped lips. Broad shoulders, slender thighs and minuscule hips. The most boyish chuckles, the kindest touch, the liveliest voice. Somewhere, Daehyun had fallen hard for a boy far too out of his league.

Daehyun hadn't known what Youngjae had been laughing about during recess, but the sight had been so mesmerising he made the mistake of staring too long instead of the usual furtive glimpses.

"Goddamn fag. Go suck someone else's dick." Youngwon steps down onto Daehyun's stomach, applying more pressure in glee. "Stupid bitch. Do you want to be a girl?"

 _I just want to love him,_ Daehyun churns out in his head as Youngwon digs deeper into his ribs. Ache burns through his bones as he arches back against the floor, bruise blooming where Youngwon had punched him.

"Youngjae doesn't want you even if you go for a sex change, disgusting piece of shit." Youngwon grabs Daehyun by the hair and tugs roughly, Daehyun groaning in pain. He almost deals another blow when Youngwon's friend whistles. The sound of high heels clacking against the ground floats towards them as Youngwon immediately retracts his limbs.

"Leave my brother alone, you hear me, gay slut?" Youngwon warns, balling his hands into fists. Daehyun frenziedly nods, cowering when Youngwon raises his fist intimidatingly. He stalks off, friends following quickly behind. Daehyun relaxes against the red lockers, calming his shallow pants and shutting his eyes.

The click-clacks increase in volume and stops suddenly, Daehyun too tired to open his eyes.

"Thanks, Hyosung."

Daehyun snaps open his eyelids at the voice. He weakly turns his head to find Youngjae standing at the end of the corridor. His friend, Hyosung, stands in high heels Daehyun recognises as the ones the female student councillors wear for official school ceremonies. Hyosung veers her gaze towards Daehyun, sympathetic, before saying, "Don't take too long."

Hyosung removes her heels, socks pattering silently to the supplies room. Daehyun watches through laboured breaths as Youngjae turns to him, expression soft. Daehyun keeps his eyes fixed on Youngjae as the boy walks over, placing the first aid kit borrowed from the infirmary. He opens the box, pulling out some tissue and wiping the blood streaking down Daehyun's nose.

Daehyun gazes longingly at the boy who delicately cleans up his wounds, wincing when Youngjae applies ointment to his bruises. Youngjae lets out a sigh, tenderly repeating his ministrations. He spares a glance at Daehyun's face and melts into a hint of displeasure. Daehyun looks away, wondering how lovelorn he must have looked to even irk Youngjae.

"You shouldn't like me, you know," Youngjae begins with a sigh. Daehyun lowers his head, staring down at the purple down his wrists. Youngjae gently lifts his arms, rubbing circles into the ugly injuries. "He only comes after you when he catches you staring. You, of all people, should know how Youngwon works." After all, a long time ago in middle school, they had been the closest of friends. Youngjae questioningly glimpses at Daehyun. "Why do you still do it?"

Daehyun gulps, meeting Youngjae's intricately carved double eyelids and the trace of brown in his irises. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry," Daehyun meekly confesses. Youngjae heaves a worn-out breath. "You're causing trouble for yourself. Isn't it tiring? Isn't it painful?"

Daehyun keeps mum, discreetly basking in Youngjae's warm and caring tone. He senses slight exasperation in Youngjae's words and apologetically slouches. "It's not... right to like me," Youngjae mutters, Daehyun freezing at his sentence. "I'm a boy, Daehyun. I have a girlfriend. You know that, don't you?"

"Daehyun," Youngjae seriously says, frowning. Daehyun looks up at him and nods quietly. It's wrong. Daehyun knows it's wrong. He used to laugh at Junhong for having a crush on his male babysitter Yongguk when they were young, calling him a weirdo. He used to dream of marrying  a beautiful woman who looks like a combination of all his favourite celebrities. He used to want a girlfriend, till he met Youngjae in freshman year.

"Then why do you still like me?" Youngjae asks, frustrated. Daehyun shrinks back, staring down at his bleeding fingers.

"I just do," Daehyun mumbles softly. Youngjae exhales lengthily, packing up the first-aid box and staring at Daehyun for a moment. He strokes the blue-black along Daehyun's jawline and whispers, "Please, Daehyun. Stop this. You're only going to hurt yourself."

Daehyun sinks into Youngjae's grasp, wet warmth slipping from his lashes. Youngjae lets out a breath, decidedly pressing a chaste kiss to Daehyun's forehead. Daehyun shuts his eyes, enjoying Youngjae's merciful affection for that short, blissful moment.

"Okay, run along, sweetie."

The lips between Daehyun's eyebrows simmer away into non-existence as he flutters his small eyes. He stares up at his mother who bids him goodbye, nudging him towards the kindergarten's playground. "Don't forget to eat your apple!" Daehyun's mother reminds as she walks towards the school gates.

"Yes, omma!" Daehyun squeaks, waving enthusiastically. He nearly trips over his two feet as he spins around, dashing for the sandbox. "Youngjae!" Daehyun screams when he notices the boy by the pavement, forgetting to slow down and crashing right into the other four year old. That's his best friend. Yoo Youngjae. He's very smart and he likes Math. Daehyun doesn't like Math but it's okay; they don't have to like the same things to be friends.

"Daehyun!" Youngjae yelps, both of the toddlers falling into the sandbox. Youngjae moans, rubbing his head as he crossly glares at Daehyun. "Why did you run into me!?"

"I was happy to see you!" Daehyun declares, patting his chest excitedly. Youngjae ignores his outburst and nurses his sore forehead, grumbling to himself. "Stupid." He moves aside as Daehyun stares curiously at the hax sign on the ground, yellow chalk lines intersecting at ninety degree angles.

"Tic tac toe?" Daehyun asks. Youngjae nods, forgetting about Daehyun's blunder and offering him the yellow piece of chalk. Daehyun excitedly claps his hands, snatching the chalk and scrawling a fat X in the middle. "X!" He announces proudly.

"O," Youngjae hums, drawing a circle in another box. They continue to holler X, O, X, O, X, O, till Youngjae folds his arms and sulks. "No one wins!" He mutters as Daehyun fills up the last square still. Daehyun tosses the yellow crayon away once one of their classmates beckons them over.

"Yah! Daehyun! Youngjae! Come here!"

Daehyun shouts back a "okay!" in acknowledgement, grabbing Youngjae's hand and hauling him over to Hana and Himchan. "Let's play pretend!" Hana cheers, the girl with ponytails bobbing her head eagerly. Himchan sits cross-legged on the floor, scratching at his neck. "Let's play mummy and daddy. I'm the mummy! Who wants to be my hubbie?"

"That's lame," Himchan groans, falling back onto the rubber floor. Hana clicks her tongue and glares at him. "You'll be my hubbie, then. I'm going to scold you so bad! Watch out!"

"There's no other girl," Youngjae points out, sniffing as he looks around the playground. They are the only children here, the rest yet to arrive or waiting in the classroom. "What are we going to be?" Youngjae asks, pointing to Daehyun and him.

"You can be our children. I have two sons!" Hana exclaims jubilantly. "Aw, but I wanted to have a tea party... The men can go read newspapers while the mothers drink tea," Hana laments, pouting cutely.

Youngjae nods while Daehyun cocks his head one side. "What about I be the daddy and Youngjae be the mummy?"

Hana and Youngjae snort synonymously at this, Himchan still laying on the ground unhappily. "Are you stupid?" Hana snaps. "Youngjae is a boy. He can't be a mummy."

"Oh," Daeyun deflates, puzzled by the sudden revelation. She's right; he hasn't since two married men before. Silly him. "Okay!" Hana declares. "Mummy and Daddy are going out shopping. You two are at home, um..." She grasps the red ball of thread from Himchan's pocket, kicking him for good measure when he yelps in irritation. "Skipping rope!"

Hana throws the yarn to Daehyun and gestures to the ground. "We're going to come back home soon and I'll cook dinner. Draw a door! Draw a door!" She hauls Himchan off the ground as the boy moans in annoyance. Youngjae picks up the discarded chalk and squats on the ground, Daehyun crouching curiously.

"Let's just draw a line. I don't know how to draw a door," Youngjae admits, prowling around the clear space. Daehyun quickly patters behind, head craned inquisitively. "Where should we draw the line? Here? Here? How about here?" Daehyun points randomly as Youngjae mulls over the question.

"Here," Youngjae decides, facing Daehyun and drawing a yellow line between them. Daehyun steps on it for no particular reason, inciting a displeased warning grunt from Youngjae. Daehyun untangles the rope and throws the other end to Youngjae. "Hana wants us to jump rope, right?"

Youngjae nods, cutely snivelling his nose as snot leaks out. Daehyun reaches out his hand to wipe it instinctively, something his mother always does for him. He subsequently wipes his hand on his shirt and steps over the rope. They begin to jump, poor coordination igniting yelps and yells between the two.

"Yah! Jump properly over the line! With me, with me!" Daehyun demands, pulling the string backwards too quickly and tripping Youngjae. Youngjae collapses onto the ground, pulling the rope with him and accidentally tugging Daehyun along. Daehyun falls onto Youngjae, red string tangling them together as he lands with a blunt thud, eyes squinted shut in pain.

The rope around them is suffocating, bounding the two toddlers together. Youngjae starts to cry just as the bell rings, cacophony of sniffs and shrills brimming at Daehyun's ears. The warmth beside Daehyun ebbs away as he lays motionlessly on the floor. He struggles to rise when he knocks into something hollow. The bell fades into a slow, depressing rhythm, and the wailing persists.

Daehyun's eyelids flit open to meet darkness. Through some gaps in whatever he is encased in, he manages to deduce the wood trails streaking down the pillar in front of him. He can only see a world of grey, barely varying in saturation. Must be the sky. Daehyun weakly stretches out his elbows and bumps into more planks, much to his confusion. The low bell persists in its chimes along with the grievous weeping, strange chanting surrounding him.

Is he suspended in thin air? No, he's inside something. A box, presumably. There's something thin between his fingers. Daehyun shifts so he can get a better view of the object, placing it underneath the small thin of light. The small movement is extremely taxing, for some reason. It is a green, wilted stalk, standing alone within his palms. A tiny, naked bud sprouts from the top.

Daehyun unstably hoists his hand, weirded out by a ticklish sensation on his palms. Every of his movements reek of pallor and lethargy, as though clawing him back into his inert resting position. Daehyun furrows his brows at what seems to be dandelion seeds all squashed underneath his hand. He garners all his might and pushes at the cover, hearing a rattling noise but the roof otherwise not budging. Where is he? What exactly is he locked inside?

He brushes his face and rubs his eyes, garnering heavy make-up all over. "We are gathered here today to pay our last tributes to our departed brother, Jung Daehyun. The passing of such a noble soldier is a loss us comrades will feel greatly in the depths of our hearts." Daehyun widens his eyes, horror seeping into his veins as he tries to process the gravity of the situation. He's... dead?

Daehyun attempts to scream but nothing leaves his throat, only agony piercing through his adam's apple. He touches his neck to find a gash, picking up dried blood on his trembling fingers. There is foundation plastering the hole, attempting to conceal it. "He was a strong man who fought bravely for our country. We believe he would have become a great husband and father if he had not cut short his own life with his bare hands."

_What?_

Daehyun tries to claw at the hinges lining the side of the supposed coffin, trepidation filling his senses. If he gets buried, he'll die of asphyxiation without a doubt. They need to know he's still alive. He's Jung Daehyun; he won't go down without a fight.

The crying voice, the sole weeping noise in the funeral procession, doubles in intensity. Daehyun strains his ears to identify the voice and sucks in a sharp breath. Youngjae. That's right; he had escaped to save Youngjae and gotten ambushed. Relief washes over Daehyun to know that Youngjae managed to survive the ordeal.

Daehyun shakily lifts his pale, lifeless arms, powerlessly knocking against the cover. His feeble pats barely make a difference on the tightly shut casket.  _Youngjae_ , he mentally calls, even his voice strained in his mind.

"Jung Daehyun made the unforgivable mistake of leaving our King's side to rescue Yoo Youngjae." At this point, the wails escalate, drowning the prayers around Daehyun into oblivion. Daehyun scrunches up at the despair writhing through Youngjae's voice, mourning breaking the tragic air.

"Brothers, we have all pledge unconditional allegiance and devotion to our great King. Whether brethens are left behind, we must venture forward for the good of our nation." There seems to be some tussling and Youngjae's sobbing abruptly cuts off. He whimpers and the sound of something collapses onto the floor with a blunt thud.

"Jung Daehyun has failed in his duties. To save him from his shame, we shall sink his corpse into the sea." Youngjae croaks out a cracked, sorrowful bleat, bells somberly accompanying his pants. Daehyun enlarges his eyes in shock, attempting once again to escape from his prison.  _I'm alive!_ Daehyun screams in his mind.  _Youngjae, I'm alive!_

"We can only hope his act of cowardice was not for a twisted intent that deviates from the word of God." The deep, guttural voice sighs loudly, the phrase bewildering Daehyun. What did the preacher mean? Regardless, he has much more pressing matters to tend to. Daehyun lifts his arms, the weight pulling them down resembling that of a thousand bricks and chained ship cargo.

"Take Yoo Youngjae away." Daehyun stills in his motions, listening intently. "He must be a witch. Burn him." Daeyun sucks in a breath in disbelief just as Youngjae begins to chant deliriously.

"No," Youngjae splutters in distress, Daehyun envisioning the boy struggling against his captors. "No! Please, no!" Youngjae shrieks, syllables a deranged, incoherent mess of pleas and tears. "No, no, no!"

 _Youngjae!_  Daehyun hectically gathers all his strength, the dire need to save Youngjae overwhelming the agony gorging through his muscles. Daehyun bangs on the door, pushing again and again as Youngjae's screams grow more distraught. His sinews sting and his skin feels like they're made of wax, melting into mere puddles of grey. Water floods his coffin through the narrow slits.  _Youngjae! Youngjae!_

"Daehyun!" The screech pierces through Daehyun's lucidity and bleeds all his force into his knuckles. He thrusts as hard as he can but the grim reaper begins to reclaim him in the form of fatigue and the-dead-should-never-move. He feels his eyelids begin to droop shut, artifically curled lashes slashing into his deceased bones. 

 _Youngjae_. Daehyun's vision begins to blur but he persistently shoves, jostles, budges. The lock seems to be coming loose, stream of light chugging in brighter by the second. However, Daehyun's eyelids simultaneously grow heavier, to the point it is a chore to keep them open. Daehyun pushes one last time as blackness fully swarms in, the door creaking open with the tip of Youngjae's name on his lifeless lips.

_Youngjae..._

Daehyun thrusts open the door, stumbling forward. Heavy rain pelts his nose and quickly douses his head and clothes, so forceful it poses a form of beating. This is the roof of their dorm. Daehyun searches through the obscurity, red sneakers wading into rain water.

"Youngjae!" Daehyun yells, wiping at his eyes to clear his vision. He identifies a form standing by the corner and hastily sprints up to the boy. "Youngjae, god! What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't come near me!" Youngjae shrills, stance defensive like a wild animal sensing a predator. His hair is dripping wet, eyes blinking out the rain thrashing onto his face. The blemishes and eye circles scarring his face are stark underneath the Daehyun stops, eyes widening to find Youngjae's feet are balance precariously on the edge of the roof. His heart rises into his throat and his body shakes in full-out trepidation.

"Y-Youngjae-"

"Don't come near me, Daehyun," Youngjae hollers threateningly, shifting back. "Take another step and I'll jump. I will."

Daehyun gingerly nods, faded echoes of Youngjae's yells drowned out by the downpour. "Calm down, Youngjae. Don't do anything rash. Tell me what's wrong." The urge to vomit scathingly seeps through his vocal chords, the terrible hallucinations of Youngjae's battered corpse haunting him.

"What's wrong?" Youngjae scoffs in wry, sick amusement, glaring back at Daehyun as though he had said the funniest thing in the world. "What's wrong?" Daehyun stares uncomfortably as Youngjae cackles maniacally, throwing his head back.

"You, Daehyun," Youngjae spits, clenching his fists. Daehyun can't tell the tears trailing down Youngjae's cheeks but he can sense them purely from Youngjae's narrowed eyes and quivering lips. "You are what's wrong."

"What did you do to me?" Youngjae breathes, voice trembling like earthquakes in the night. Flashes of fragmented memories pervade Daehyun's mind, the traces of Youngjae's silhouette beneath his body and aching desire.

"What did you do to me!?" Youngjae screams, fists balling so hard veins strike down his arms. Startled, Daehyun steps forward, the movement igniting wariness in Youngjae. "Don't come any closer."

"Y-Youngjae," Daehyun wheezes, finally identifying the bile up his throat. Remorse. Guilt. Self-hate. Sick, sick love. "I-I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Youngjae repeats, irony booming through his irate speech. "Of course. Jung Daehyun is sorry. That fixes everything, right? Oh, I'm sorry, Youngjae. I'm sorry for fucking ignoring you for god knows how long. I'm sorry I was such a shitty friend and ditched you for no apparent reason. I'm sorry I had sex with you because I couldn't fucking control myself."

Daehyun parts his lips, wanting to protest vehemently but the look Youngjae shoots slices off his airway. It is ironic, really. In his insanity, Daehyun had ran as far as he could from the darkness Youngjae bled, to escape being drowned alive. While he ran, however, further and further away, he left a trail of gasoline that lit Youngjae up in ferocious, ebony flames.

"How can I go back to being who I was?" Youngjae whispers, nearly begging Daehyun for an answer. A solution, maybe. It's so out of place because Youngjae never asks for help to prove he's capable of everything. The three words staining Daehyun's lips, morphed from his incessant thoughts of a bandmate with a sharp jawline and stupid, stupid laughter, and his insatiable desire to claim Youngjae. All because Youngjae knows him too well and his smiles seem to draw out the fearful sun even in a sorrowful eclipse.

"You've ruined me," Youngjae quivers. His body limply shudders and Daehyun widens his eyes.

Youngjae steps off the edge. Daehyun lunges out for him, grappling him into his embrace as they spiral downwards. The wind claws past their skins as Youngjae stares up at Daehyun in utter disbelief. Daehyun manages out a smile and cradles Youngjae tighter, hoping that maybe, as his blood splatters against the sidewalk and his bones shatter through his organs, he'll be able to keep Youngjae safe. Youngjae speaks but the whooshing air encrypts all of Youngjae's desperate and sorry cries. Daehyun buries his face into Youngjae's cheek, shuts his eyes and braces himself for impact.

"Stop blinking!"

Daehyun flutters open his eyes, beaming at a frustrated Youngjae. The boy taps on his camera, deleting the photograph and looking through the lens again. "Do it properly, you idiot."

The blinding afternoon sunlight coaxes sweat from Daehyun's aching legs, sore feet induced by their long hike to the crossing. Youngjae had suggested going sightseeing during their limited one day break, given because the company could sense the rebellion boiling from their cracked joints and sleepless eyes. They had split ways with the group when Himchan admitted he didn't want to spend the day walking in the hot sun and the others quietly agreed.

Daehyun briefly glances around, admiring the old train tracks running down the sea of pebbles. Youngjae accidentally trips on one, inciting deep laughter from Daehyun. He continues grinning when Youngjae sends him a glare, both of them ultimately breaking out into chuckles.

"Another one?" Daehyun asks, balancing himself on the railroad's plates. Youngjae nods, adjusting his camera settings before snapping another picture. This time, Daehyun keeps Youngjae and the serene, aged background in his sight. Youngjae hums contentedly, though he puffs amusedly at Daehyun's pose.

"Mine looks so much better than yours," Youngjae muses, flipping to his picture taken and admiring his form in the small screen. Daehyun feigns puking, knuckling Youngjae on the head. "That's because I took the photo, dumbass."

Youngjae waves him off, joining him by the side. The distant rattling of tracks reverberate through the still air but the two of them pay no heed. "Let's take one together. I'm going to tweet it out," Youngjae declares, whipping out his phone. Daehyun naturally wraps an arm around Youngjae and the latter does the same, their heads bumping into one another. Youngjae's skin is soft.

The rumbling surges in volume, the train operator honking at them to get out of the way. Somehow, the thought of a locomotive barrelling straight through them isn't frightening when they're together. Youngjae opens his camera application, changing the perspective and pulling up a bright grin. "Alright, one, two, three," Youngjae counts, Daehyun tightening his grip around Youngjae's waist. Daehyun glances at Youngjae for a split second and mirrors the grin, staring into the camera.

"Smile!"

 

 

 

 

 

_You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don't know for sure._

_But it doesn't matter, because we'll be together._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**ATTENTION, PASSENGERS**

There has been a minor accident on the train tracks. Train service will be delayed momentarily. Please do not crowd the area in question. We apologise for the inconvenience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Daehyun!"

Footsteps pad briskly behind Daehyun, contrasting the tremors his feet bangs into concrete. The veins convulse up his arms all the way to his neck, threatening to suffocate the livid man alive. The moment a hand lands on Daeyun's shoulder, Daehyun swivels around and glares daggers through the intruder.

"What?" Daehyun snarls, eyes large and showing too much white like a mad man. His teeth are gritted so hard it grinds dust, soles scorching through the forlorn cement supporting his feet. The streets are largely empty since it's just seven, the scent of dawn reminding Daehyun of Youngjae's tussled bed hair. "What the fuck do you want, hyung?"

Stunned, Yongguk blinks at Daehyun silently while processing his infuriated, dishevelled state. The irascibility throbbing through Daehyun's deeply incised wrinkles and his shaking arms sends Yongguk a step back. Daehyun's head pounds with Youngjae's tormenting shadow within the gap of the ajar door, Youngjae's lips pressed against Himchan's cheek. 

The leader clears his throat, speaking quietly but sternly as though afraid to set of a time bomb. "What happened?" Yongguk asks. Daehyun glares so hard his eyes nearly cross in ache and he believes they'll roll out of his sockets. He wants to punch a wall, break plaster over his knuckles and come back bleeding so Youngjae will feel remorseful for how hurt Daehyun is.

"I don't know," Daehyun rebounds sarcastically, as though challenging Yongguk to find out because he himself doesn't know what the fuck happened. Youngjae kissed Himchan. They had slept together in the same room last night, agony, worry and self-doubt concocting insomnia in Daehyun. Between concerned taps of feet and Daehyun perpetually sitting up and at the edge of the bed, Daehyun had gingerly made his way to Himchan's room. He had fumbled with the doorknob to find it locked, onsetting paranoia keeping his eyelids stapled open.

The insecurity creeps under Daehyun's skin as he locks his jaw harder, relentlessly dwelling on self-conscious thoughts and ruptured ribs. Youngjae had kissed Himchan. Why? Does he like Himchan? Does he love Himchan? They have been spending a lot of time together lately. Himchan can't seem to leave Youngjae alone. He keeps asking if Youngjae has eaten and if he wants to go shopping. Youngjae seems to talk to Himchan most.

Why. Is Daehyun not good enough for him? 

"What made you angry?" Yongguk rephrases the question, eyes furrowing into a strict frown. Daehyun glares back, cocking his head one side and fingers digging into his palm. "Nothing," he growls, quaking from the sheer intensity of his rage. Within him, the curve of Youngjae's stomach slices up his sinews and imbues pain all over. Has he only been an experiment to Youngjae?

Flutters of lashes. Pristine eyes. Grazes of cheeks. Youngjae's smile. Daehyun's scowl sours noticeably, Yongguk watching in perturbation. He wryly coughs, stating, "You were standing outside Himchan's room. I saw you just before I went into mine." Daehyun snaps his head, as though daring Yongguk to make his own conclusion. "A few minutes later, you nearly broke our door."

"Yeah,  _so?_ " Daehyun seethes, toes coiling in agitation. The memory of Youngjae against Himchan's shoulder and the soft look they had exchanged breaks Daehyun's bones into sadistic fragments, clawing irate tears from his eyes. He sucks them in with a rough inhale, boring his eyes through Yongguk's head. Why had Youngjae kissed Himchan? Has Daehyun been forgotten? Thrown away? Abandoned?

Taken aback by Daehyun's unwavering vexation, Yongguk lets out a quiet breath and gently grasps Daehyun's shoulder. This is how Yongguk has been treating him lately. He plays the role of a placating, mature wife to an ill-tempered, childish husband drowning in utter turmoil. Breaking possessions, setting their home ablaze, cacophonous shrieks, that's all Daehyun knows how to do when blinded by his temperament.

"Daehyun," Yongguk starts softly. He seems to mull over how to piece his words together, Daehyun's fuming stature not dissipating one bit.

"I saw you in Youngjae's room that day."

Daehyun's glower melts into puzzlement and he interrogates Yongguk with his eyes. Yongguk averts his gaze before meeting Daehyun's livid eyes, breathing, "That night, you went out for a walk and Youngjae had a nightmare."

The recollection causes Daehyun to still. He thins his lips and subtly gulps, Youngjae's profile against the pillow still vivid in his mind. How long had Yongguk been watching him? He had been there for a while or so, maybe fifteen minutes, or perhaps thirty, possibly an hour.

"I went to the toilet and passed by Youngjae's room. You were crouching by his bedside." Yongguk scrutinises Daehyun, attempting to decipher him. "You kissed him."

Daehyun's blood turns cold. Fear thrashes with his acrimony, his stance slumping and fists uncurling. Yongguk looks at Daehyun for a elongated moment before squeezing his shoulder. He doesn't seem to suspect anything more than lingering friendship. Daehyun misses the slight frown Yongguk melts into for that split second, irises unreadable.

"I don't know why you're avoiding him," Yongguk sighs, his eye circles and tired voice inciting remorse in Daehyun, "but he obviously still means something to you." Yongguk waits for the weight of his words to sink in as Daehyun glances at the wall, tension in his back crumbling. Daehyun had given in to his demons that day—crept out of his room, incapacitated by withdrawal symptoms of staying too far from his beloved, and admired his face against the gentle moonlight.

"You know you have to face it eventually," Yongguk soothes. "Face him, too." Daehyun's eyes flash with trepidation for that second, Yongguk reassuringly patting his back. It reminds him of his mother back when he was young.

What exactly does he need to face? The fact that he's been staring at Youngjae with enamoured eyes for a long, long time, and he's tragically fallen too deeply in love with him? What will he do when he acknowledges that?

"We're here for you, Daehyun." Yongguk lets his hand slip, offering a small smile. "Don't make us wait too long. Sometimes, if you take too long, the things you love may have already gone by then." He inhales lightly. "You know who I'm talking about."

Daehyun keeps his gaze veered, contour of Youngjae's jawline fresh against his shoulder. Yongguk retreats, turning around and striding down the sidewalk. "Don't stay out too late," he advises gently, nuturing attitude pacifying Daehyun's bulging nerves. Daehyun continues to stare at his feet as Yongguk disappears.

Daehyun's vision focuses as Youngjae solidifies his lucidity, a familiar pair red shoes that doesn't belong to him coming into sight. In his blind madness, he had shoved his feet into the first pair of shoes by the door. Daehyun's eyes scour over the prim shoelaces, colour still radiant and fresh. These are the pair of shoes Youngjae had bought for Daehyun but ultimately decided to throw them away. Daehyun had seen this by the recycling bin before a while back, Junhong too lazy to empty the trash.

Youngjae had taken them back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes here: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/630596/15/


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